


idle souls

by kendrasaunders



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hold on to your hats, This is Gonna Get Real Sexual Pretty Fast So, alternate universe - archeologists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendrasaunders/pseuds/kendrasaunders
Summary: Dr. Kendra Saunders is thrilled at the opportunity to work an archeological dig on the outskirts of Cairo- The fact that her academic nemesis, Dr. Carter Hall, will also be there only slightly dampens her spirits. And while she finds his attempts to charm her more than a little endearing, she's still content to write him off as a smug, treasure-hunting pretty boy- That is, until the two of them find an inscribed dagger that changes their lives and unveils their destinies.There's a lot of sex. Just. So much of it.





	1. in which we meet dr. hall, and he is a very charming douchebag

**Author's Note:**

> it's funny, when i started working on this story, i really didn't know how i was going to start fleshing things out before we get to the, you know, hardcore skin on skin contact. turns out i really enjoyed writing them into this universe? so much so that there will unfortunately be another chapter of non-fucking until we get to /the good stuff/. bear with me. i hope you'll be as charmed by this story as kendra pretends not to be.

It’s drizzling when she pulls up to the hotel, which is kind of weird and kind of unexpected and kind of dangerous, if it really starts to rain. Already, she knows the site is going to have shifted by tomorrow, and she’s already rethinking where they’re going to start. “Weird,” she remarks, mostly to herself. “It never rains in Cairo.”

“It’ll let up,” the driver tells her. “It’s not too much, anyway.”

“No,” Kendra says, adjusting her bag on her lap. “I- Yeah. It’s silly to complain, really. I’m just- Thinking. Sorry.”

“Here for vacation?” the driver asks. “You’ll still be able to see the pyramids tomorrow. A little drizzle won’t change that.”

“Oh,” Kendra says. “I wish I could just- Vacation. You know? But I’m- I’m working, actually. Around that area.”

“Don’t work too hard,” he says. “It’s a beautiful city. You don’t want to waste being here, you know?”

“Don’t worry,” Kendra says. “I love my job. I’ll have a great time.”

She can feel the driver grinning at her, from the way his eyes crinkle in the rearview mirror. “Have a drink, yeah?” he says. “Relax. You’re still on vacation.”

“Well,” Kendra says, spirits slightly lifted. “I suppose having a nightcap wouldn’t hurt.”

He nods at her as she hands him the fare, clicking open the door and hopping out of the car. 

“Trunk, please,” she asks. 

No sooner has the trunk popped open then someone calls, in a sort of smooth, masculine voice, “Dr. Saunders.”

 

She gives the driver one last look. “Thank you,” she says. “For the ride. And the advice.”

He shrugs. 

She knows the feeling.

“Dr. Saunders,” the man repeats, and Kendra smooths her hair before rising to her full height.

She moves to the back of the cab. “Just a moment,” she calls back, not even sure who she’s talking to. “I just have to get-“

And there’s a man in her space. “Can I help you with your bag?”

Kendra takes a step back, pulling back her hand from where he had almost brushed it. “Dr. Hall,” she says. “You’re early.”

“So are you,” he says, easily hefting her suitcase out of the trunk. “Glad you recognize me.”

“Well,” she says. “You recognized me, so-“

“Your photo is on your department’s website,” he says, slamming the trunk shut. “Sorry. Am I being too- I thought you could use a hand.”

Kendra gives him a sort of tight lipped not-smile, taking her bag’s handle from him and rolling it towards the hotel. “I’m fine,” she tells him. “Really. Thanks.”

“Did you have a nice flight?” he asks.

“Great,” she says, the wheels of her suitcase clicking over pavement. “Long.”

He pauses, like he expects her to ask about his flight, in return.

She doesn’t.

“You look,” he continues to walk beside her, even through the automatic doors. “Well. Your photo on the website- Is that a different haircut? You just look-“

“Dr. Hall,” Kendra says, the way she would address a small child or dog or maybe a very persistent bee. “Do you spend a lot of time looking at my department photo?”

When she finally looks at him, hoping to glare him down, he grins back at her. “No more than usual, I think,” he says. “It links to your papers.”

“Ah,” she says. 

“I was actually hoping-“

She holds up her hand. “Kendra Saunders,” she tells the front desk. She’s returned to pointedly not-looking at him, if only in the hopes that this will remove some of the surreality of her current predicament. She’s been dreading meeting him since the moment she found out he’d be on this dig, pretty-boy Carter Hall with his tenacity and his disregard for anything like reasonable context and his offensively well-lit department photo.

And here he is. Not giving her a minute of peace. She didn’t even get to decide how she’d wanted to meet him, or put some lipstick on.

He’d just. Shown up. So already, she really feels like she’s going to hate him just as much as she’d expected to.

And there’s satisfaction in that. She does like being right.

She takes the room key from the front desk, slipping it into her pocket.

“Dr. Saunders,” Carter says, still leaning on the desk, waiting for her. “I was going to say, I’d really like if we could- Get drinks, discuss your latest paper? You made this one point on page three, and-“

Kendra balks at him. She doesn’t really mean to, but it’s just- The sheer audacity of it, out of absolutely nowhere, like she has nothing better to do then let him mansplain her paper to her, like he does in all of his little critiques that she definitely doesn’t read at 3AM, full of rage, and he’s still just standing there, looking at her. For fucks sake. 

“Dr. Hall,” she says, carefully. “I just arrived. I would like to shower, and change.”

“And then we could meet at the bar,” he says. “I’m not sure if you drink Egyptian beer but let me tell you, it’s-“

“Wait,” Kendra says, the gears in her head screeching from immediate and dire overuse. “I’m sorry. Do you want to discuss my paper or do you want to have drinks with me?”

“Both,” he says.

“You just met me,” she says.

“Oh, I know,” he tells her. “Believe me, I have been waiting to meet you for months now. Ever since we got put on this site together, I’ve really been scouring your work, I think we have a lot to talk about and-“

“Ma’am,” the desk clerk tells her. “There are people behind you.”

Kendra gives her a sheepish sort of look before gently rolling her suitcase away from the front desk and towards the elevator, Dr. Hall still clipping at her side. “So you want me to listen to you explain my papers to me. Right?”

“What?” he says. “No. Of course not. I was actually hoping you could elaborate on a couple of points for me, especially when you spoke out against the idea of my recent find being a fertility idol-“

Kendra lets out a huff. “One hour,” she says. “I will meet you at the hotel bar in one hour. Bring your cliffnotes. I’ll bring mine. Okay?”

He beams at her, and for just a split second, she almost kind of likes how he smiles. “Of course. What’s your room?”

She checks her key. “1404.”

“I’m 1304,” he says. “Right below you. If you need anything.”

“I won’t,” she promises, trying to at least smile when she says it.

“Well,” he says. “You never know.”

“Right,” she says, letting herself into the elevator. “You coming?”

“No, no,” he says. “I’m going to go grab a couple things. Are you familiar with the city?”

“Not really,” Kendra says.

“Perhaps I could show you around?” he offers.

She slams her thumb against “14” and looks up at him. “We’re here for work, Dr. Hall.”

He’s going to say something, but the elevator doors ding shut, and Kendra has never been more grateful for anything in her life.

 

It’s only when she reaches the fourteenth floor that she realizes Dr. Hall has just asked her on a date.

“Oh, God no,” Kendra says to herself, under her breath. She lets herself into her room, letting her suitcase fall to the wayside as she steps out of her clothes. If that smarmy pretty boy thinks he’s going to charm her into agreeing with every wrong point he’s ever made- And there are so, so many- Well. She doubts his dick could be that good. 

Also, she isn’t thinking about his dick. Weird. Ew. He’s not even like. Her type. Freudian thought slip. Means nothing. 

She’s more than happy to see the shower, and not to think about Dr. Hall.

 

—

 

She arrives at the hotel bar one hour and twenty minutes later. The twenty minutes, she thinks, prove a point about their relationship. One that she assumes will likely be lost on Dr. Hall entirely- In their brief and painful time together, she’s pieced together that he’s pretty damn dense.

He grins at her when she comes down the stairs, which already answers that question. The lateness had been for more than her benefit than his- Though now she feels like she’d just been prolonging the inevitable. 

“Dr. Saunders,” he says, greeting her by putting his hand firmly and inarguably on her shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

She blinks at him. “Thanks.”

“I picked something up for you downtown,” he says. “I hope you like babosa, they always sell out this late in the day and I got you the last-“

“Dr. Hall,” Kendra says, settling into her seat at the bar. “I realized on the elevator that you may think this is… something other than it is.”

“Oh?” he asks. 

“Well,” she says, staring at the unassuming, white pastry box. “I think you may be confused by the nature of our relationship.”

He gives her a half grin, leaning onto his hand. “I assure you, Dr. Saunders, my interest in you is purely professional. I mean, we’ve spent how long picking apart each other’s papers?”

“At least two years,” Kendra says. She doesn’t really like how easy-going he is, how unassuming. She crosses her ankles. “I um- I remember the first critique you wrote of my piece about that dig in Punta del Este? Where you said that I-“

“Completely disregarded my previous precedent set based on finds in similar areas,” he recalls. Fondly.

Kendra finds herself almost smiling, despite herself. “And I wrote back and said that you had absolutely no claim to be setting precedent?”

“I remember it like it was yesterday,” he says. “I wasn’t- I didn’t know if you’d respond to my critique, and you did, and it was so fiery and smart and just- I have wanted to pick your brain for some time, now.”

Kendra taps her fingers on the countertop. “I honestly thought we were bitter enemies, Dr. Hall.”

“Well who says we can’t be?” he says. “Every good archeologist has a rival.”

“Yes, but,” Kendra says. “You got me babosa.”

“To be honest,” he says, leaning in. “I got it hoping you’d offer me half.”

His eyes are kind of an unfair shade of green, sort of cloying and interesting. “Is that how you always do things?” Kendra says. “You do a nice thing for someone, hoping they’ll give you something?”

“Not always,” he says. “Not usually. But as I said. This is the best babosa in the city.”

Her tongue wets her lower lip. “You’ll have to excuse me,” she says. “My trust is not… so easily given. Dr. Hall.”

“You can call me Carter, you know,” he says, opening the box. “Though I assume you’d prefer I call you Dr. Saunders, and you’re keeping up the pretense to make the playing field seem equal.” He turns away for a second, signaling the bartender. “Could we get forks? And a- What do you drink?”

Kendra folds her hands across her knees. “What do you drink?”

“Whatever’s local,” he tells her, which is just the most excruciating answer he could’ve given. “Two,” he says politely, in Arabic. “On my tab.”

“Don’t buy me a drink,” Kendra says, sighing. “Please, Dr. Hall.”

“Ah,” he says. “You weren’t supposed to understand that part.”

“Of course I speak Arabic,” she says, almost miffed. “Most of my work takes me to this area, not Cairo before now but-“

“Relax,” he says. “You can buy the next round.”

“The next round?” Kendra says. “How much of my time are you planning to take up?”

He gestures to her with his newly-placed fork. “As much of it as you’re willing to give,” he says. “If you’re really that set on this nemesis narrative, then-“ He motions to the exit.

“I’m sorry,” Kendra says. “Narrative?”

He makes a casual sort of face at her, like he’s bemused by his own cleverness. 

“People don’t think in narratives, Dr. Hall,” Kendra says. “Most people don’t. People that aren’t you. What’s your narrative, then? I play the Marion to your stunning Dr. Jones, and-“

“I’m sorry,” Carter says. “Did you just call him Dr. Jones? Everyone says Indiana Jones.”

“It felt more appropriate,” Kendra says. “I was-“ She motions to him. “Going with how you’re Dr. Hall and I’m- This is stupid. I’m not having this argument.”

“It’s not an argument,” he says. “I’m just stating a well known fact.”

“Carter,” she says, before she can stop herself, likely because it’s just a better name to say whilst in the throes of true frustration. “What do you want from me?”

“Your brain,” he says. “I actually-“ He reaches down to his bag, the exact kind of leather bag someone like him would be expected to have, and pulls out about seven hundred pounds of paper.

Kendra watches him slam the papers onto the counter, beaming at her. “Holy-“

“Our papers,” he says. “These are the original copies of yours I printed out and marked up, so you’ll find they have some smudges- I’ve been storing them well enough, but I’d love for some more in-person critique from you on my-“

“Dr. Hall,” Kendra says. “That’s hundreds of pages.”

“We have beer,” he says. “And the rest of our little group shouldn’t be here until much, much later tonight- Unless you’d like to do something else? There’s an amazing nightclub in the center of the city, we can go onto the roof and-“

“I’m good,” Kendra says. “I mean. I’m-“ She eyes the bakery box, the beers that have been placed by Carter’s arm. “You’re buying the next round,” Kendra says. “And the next one. And the next.”

He flips through the stack of papers, pulling out a report and passing it over to her. “As many as you want, Dr. Saunders.”

“And-“ She stares at the title page. It’s one of his older ones- one of her least favorites. “I want that babosa.”

“Of course,” he says, moving the box. “All yours.”

She opens the box rather contemptuously, feeling her heart soften just a touch at the small cake slice looking up at her. “It does look,” she pulls her lips into a line. “Really good.”

He offers her the handle of his fork. “It is.”

“Do you have a pen?” she says. 

“Any color,” he replies.

She tapes the cake box with her fork. “Red’s fine.”

He lets out a small, amused noise at that, a sort of visible happiness that reaches his eyes. “Red it is.”

She could almost find him cute, if he wasn’t so utterly full of himself. Like she has nothing better to do tonight than read his papers.

Okay. So maybe she didn’t. And maybe he got her cake. That meant nothing. 

She takes the pen from him, her fork already placed aside. She uncaps it with her teeth, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “Here,” she says, circling the title on the front page. “I always hated this title.”

“We’re off to an excellent start,” he says. 

“Quiet,” she says, reaching for her beer. He hands it to her. For a second, she meets his gaze, and catches something in it that makes almost, almost, feel something for him. 

She looks back to his paper, and swallows it down. “And here,” she says, turning the page. “Already, you’re demonstrating your classic disregard of context.”

“Classic?” he says. “Is this something I do often, Dr. Saunders?”

“It’s your signature,” Kendra says. “Here. See how you’re already drawing a false conclusion based on your original misconception?”

“Well,” he says, pulling her paper out from the stack. “That sounds an awful lot like the argument you made in this paper, and I already countered that in-“

“I thought you wanted my critiques,” she tells him. 

He’s the very picture of innocence, staring wide-eyed at her. “Well,” he says. “I thought you’d appreciate the back and forth.”

“Right,” she says. “Because you’re just so thrilling to argue with.”

“You’ve been doing it for quite some time now,” he says. “Am I too… intimidating in person?” 

And it’s such a clear, present dare, such an obvious way to get her attention, but he’s so smug and so teasing that she sort of wants to take the bait. “You know,” she says. “You’re really pretty full of yourself for someone that misunderstands basic context. Then again, I guess I can’treally be surprised, what with the PhD program in St. Roch-“

“This!” he interrupts, grinning at her. “From the woman making her mark in Central City, of all places, the city where that lab _exploded_ ,”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Kendra says. “I’m an _archeologist.”_

“All I can say is,” he remarks. “It doesn’t set a good _precedent_.”

“That has got to be your favorite word,” Kendra says. “Which is hilarious, because I don’t think you know what it means.”

“Oh?” Carter asks.

“And here,” Kendra says, emphatically underlining a statement in his paper. “This has bothered me since I read this damn thing. First of all-“

“I’m listening,” he says.

“Don’t interrupt,” Kendra says. “First of all-“

She tilts her head to look at him, and catches that he’s staring at her way too intently, his hand on his knee and his body arched towards her. 

Kendra pushes her seat back. “Well-“

 

—

 

She’s lost track of the time when she reaches her fourth beer- Or her fifth? She’s scribbled something onto Carter’s paper that reads, “This sounds like something a JERK would say,” with a little frowny face next to it, and she’s having trouble remembering exactly which one the Hellenistic period is- Her thoughts feel kind of warm and fuzzy, and not just because Carter’s knee has been touching hers for like… ever.

He glances down at her note, looking back up at her with a grin. “You think I’m a jerk?”

“I think,” she taps the center of his chest with her pen. “You write like one.”

“Okay, Kendra,” he says, slipping the pen from between her fingers. “I think we have had a wonderful evening, and you should go to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” she protests, trying to grab the pen back from him. He holds it at a distance from her, and the soft way he chuckles warps around her thoughts like honey. “Carter. I’m not done yet.”

“Oh, I know,” Carter says. “But we’ll have other times. It’s late. You should have some water and go to bed so you’re not sick tomorrow.”

“I don’t get sick,” Kendra tells him, hair falling over her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“I know, I know,” he says. He slides the papers off the counter, carefully re-organizing his bag as Kendra drums her fingers on her knees.

“Carter,” she says. 

“Hm?” he asks, still sorting papers.

“Did you ask me out?”

He looks up at her. “Did you want me to?”

“Answer my question,” she says, furrowing her brow. “Have you been spending all this time planning to- Date me?”

He smiles at her, sort of soft and sort of amused, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her off the bar stool. “I asked to share a drink with you, sure,” he says. “I asked for you to talk about work with me, of course. That’s all quite true.”

She finds standing to be a bit of a challenge, and she rests her head on his shoulder, only because it steadies her. “You don’t even know me.”

“Ah,” he says, guiding her to the elevator. “But I know your work. And that makes me feel like I’ve known you for ages.”

She snickers. “We just met.”

“Oh, come on,” he says. “You don’t think it feels like we’ve known each other forever?”

She tilts her head, glancing sidelong at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a feeling,” he says. “I thought it was mutual.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know you.”

“Well,” he says, riding up with her to her floor. “I hope you get to know me, at least. I’ll have drinks with you anytime you want.”

He guides her down the hall to her room, moving for her pocket.

“Carter!” she says, jolting at his touch.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. He holds her white key card between his fingers, a show of true intent. “Your key.”

“Right,” she says. “Right. I-“

“I mean, even if we were going to do that, Dr. Saunders,” he says, and she feels very acutely like he’s teasing her. “You’re way too far gone.”

“Please, _Dr. Hall,”_ she says, grinning as the door clicks open. “Only in your dreams.”

“I will,” he says, as she separates from him, letting herself into her room. “I will dream of you, Dr. Saunders.”

“Don’t make it weird,” she says. “Okay? Don’t make this whole thing weird.”

He’s still smiling at her, and it makes her feel like smiling back, like running her thumbs against the creases of his mouth and- “I won’t make it weird,” he says. “You have my word.”

“Goodnight,” she says, softly.

“Goodnight, Dr. Saunders,” he says. “Would you like to ride with me to the site tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yes. I’d- Let’s do that.”

He reaches for her hand, squeezing it once before dropping it. “Until then.”

“Bye,” she offers.

“Goodbye,” he says, and the door shuts between them.

 

It takes her ten full seconds to remember to turn on the lights- And another ninety seconds for her to scold herself for feeling so… gooey.

She strips out of her jeans, her shirt, slipping off her bra and letting it fall somewhere on the floor. When she falls into bed, it’s the best feeling in the whole world. 

For a second, she’s aware that leaning on Dr. Hall meant she got a headful of him, that he smelled really, really good, a bit like leather and a bit like soap. 

“He’s an ass,” she tells herself, and she does mean it. “He’s an absolute ass,” she repeats, and turns off the lights.


	2. in which carter can’t drive and kendra finds something very very dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kendra and carter begin day one of the excavation- or at least, they would, if kendra could get her thoughts in order. there’s just something about this old Egyptian dig site that she finds so… distracting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to update! everything is now planned out, though, so expect more frequent chapters going forward! also this is the last smut-free chapter so please expect filth from chapter 3 onwards.
> 
> here's an ao3 exclusive smut spoiler next chapter is shower masturbation we did it

The liquor makes her dream of birds. Strange, fuzzy-feeling dreams, tinged with brown-gold feathers and the overwhelming sense that she is falling. It’s that identical tumble in her stomach, the sensation of sudden weightlessness and the anxiety of it, tying knots from her stomach all the way up to her throat. She tries to land and finds there’s no where to go- Then feels the world shift around her, almost as if knowing there is ground has changed the landscape entirely. Suddenly, she finds herself looking up, staring at someone else flying by. She opens her mouth to shout to them, to ask something that is yet unknown, that she will understand once it’s said, and she reaches her hand to block out the sun and-

Kendra’s phone is ringing so loudly that it splits her entire world open. Her entire being is thrust back into wakefulness with an unglamorous yelp, her legs tangled in the bedsheet. “Holy shit!” Her hand finds her phone before her brain fully registers it, thumb sliding right on instinct more than anything else.

“Dr. Saunders?” Carter asks from the other side, stunningly loud at this early hour of the morning. 

“What?” Kendra manages, still not lifting the phone fully to her ear. If she does, it might kill her.

“Dr. Saunders,” Carter repeats. “I ran out to get coffee before we go, I don’t know your order. Isn’t that funny? I always ask someone, “What’s your coffee order?” It’s a great way to decipher personality, and-“

Kendra tenderly puts her phone a few inches from her ear. “Dr. Hall,” she says, carefully. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty,” he says, chipper. “We said we’d leave the hotel at eight?”

Kendra rubs her eyes. “When?”

“Last night,” he says. “I know we got to bed rather late but, I tried to shuffle us upstairs at a decent hour. Did I wake you?”

“No,” Kendra lies. “No. I’ve been up since- I’m up. How long have you been up for?”

“Oh, a couple of hours,” he says. “I work out in the mornings, shower, get coffee-“

The mere idea of a work out makes Kendra grown, her body trying to sink deeper into the mattress in protest. “Oh my God.”

“So,” Carter continues, oblivious. “What’s your order?”

“Coffee,” Kendra says. “For now. Black coffee. Biggest size you can get.”

“That,” he says. “Is a really interesting coffee order.”

She pointedly ignores his use of interesting, and the conversation she knows he’s going for. “Goodbye, Dr. Hall” Kendra says.

“See you in thirty minutes, Dr. Saunders,” he says.

She almost replies with, “Don’t threaten me,” but knows it’s far too early in the damn morning to provide that statement with any levity- And she’s not like, actually threatened by it. She feels a little like garbage, but that’s not entirely Carter’s fault. Only like- Half.

He didn’t ask her to have- Four? Five beers? She remembers him telling her to slow down somewhere around three. And then she, a PhD and genius, had told him, “Oh, I’m sorry Carter, did I ask for your input?” and had ordered another beer.

So if she wanted to blame Carter for something, it would be for being so easy to argue with.

She checks her phone screen again, the low blue hues of her background bringing her a moment’s peace.

A shower would probably be a good idea. Her hair’s going to poof up like crazy in the dry heat, but it’s just a dig. Who honestly bothers dressing up for a dig? She’ll put some lip balm on, smear herself with sunscreen, and call it ready. 

Because she’s definitely sleeping in for another ten minutes.

 

 

She’s managed to pull her damp hair into something half-decent by the time Dr. Hall knocks on her door- Three heavy knocks that he probably finds terribly charming, like one can knock on a door in correct fashion.

She blows a stray strand of hair out of her face, pinning it back into her ponytail. “One minute!”

“I gave you thirty,” he responds, muffled by the door between them.

“I fell back asleep,” she calls back, making sure her tank top is tucked decently enough into her jeans.

“So you’re still in bed, then?” he says, and she knows he’s being cloying. She has to tell herself that, because if she rolls her eyes at him now, her ocular nerves will have detached from overuse by the end of today.

“I’m up,” she says, checking for her sunscreen. “I’m ready. Unclench.”

“I assure you,” he says. “I am as unclenched as can be.”

“Please don’t say those things,” Kendra says.

“It was your term!” 

“Which I regret using, thank you,” Kendra tells him, opening her door. “Good morning, Dr.- Is that really what you’re wearing?”

He holds up her coffee, and stares politely into her eyes. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You’re overdressed,” she says. “No one actually dresses like Indiana Jones.”

“Well, I suppose I always do,” Carter tells her. “I like to.”

“You’re going to make a mess out of your clothes,” she says, taking her coffee.

“I’m aware of that,” he says. “I don’t mind the dirt, Dr. Saunders.” 

“Oh, but those are such nice-“ And she’s not really sure where her mouth is going with this, at all, or why she’s even speaking. “Slacks.”

He grins at her. “I’m flattered.”

She takes a long, pointed sip of her coffee. “Shit,” she says, mostly to herself. “This is like, the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Of course it is,” he says. “You’re in Cairo.”

That earns him a look.

“You’ve got sunscreen, yeah?” Carter asks. “You’re covered in freckles, I’d hate for you to-“

“Got enough sunscreen for ten of us,” Kendra says, shifting her bag on her shoulder.

“Good,” he says. “Of course, I do always carry extra, but-“

“I’m fine, Dr. Hall,” she says. “We should get going.”

“Perfect,” he says. “I’m driving.”

“You’re what?” Kendra asks, only now realizing he’s been holding on to her wrist.

“Driving a car,” he says.

“I thought we’d call a car,” Kendra says. “Take the bus. Or something.”

“Waste of time,” he says. “I’m a perfectly good driver. Really.”

“That’s not-“ Kendra still hasn’t shaken off his hand, even though they’re already on the elevator. “That’s not something a good driver would say.”

He’s digging his Ray-Bans out with his free hand, because of course he has Ray-Bans, and of course he has to put them on and smile at her at the same time. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Scared of a little adventure?”

“Hold this,” Kendra says, shoving her coffee against his chest so she can dig her own, ten dollar pair of sunglasses from her bag. “And no, I’m not afraid of adventure, ass, I’m afraid that you personally are going to drive us up and off the pyramids like it’s a freestyle ramp.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter says, and she doesn’t know what she’s doing that’s making him so genuinely happy, but he really doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of stopping. “Did you just call me an ass?”

“Yes, _ass_ ,” Kendra says. “Coffee me.”

“I was just under the impression that we were keeping our monikers professional,” Carter says. “If I’m an ass, then can I at least call you Kendra?”

“Get me to the dig site in one piece, and we’ll see,” she says.

He hands her back her coffee, gesturing to the front doors. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Never say that to me again,” Kendra says.

He, infuriatingly enough, just laughs.

 

 

The car is about two inches wider than a smart car, Carter’s music is terrible, and he drives like an extra in Ben Hur.

“Hey Carter,” Kendra says, her hand keeping her coffee steady in the cupholder. “I’m not gonna be embarrassed if I puke on myself, because it’s your fault for driving this way.”

“My driving is fine,” Carter tells her, which is a blatant lie. “It’s this traffic that’s the problem.”

He makes a swerve around a truck, and Kendra feels her stomach drop. “Carter!”

“You know, I’m kind of fascinated with how you say my name,” he says, and she feels like he’s about 2 seconds from hopping the curb and just driving on the sidewalk. “No one’s ever said it like you do before.”

“Well you’ve probably never been this close to killing anyone else bef- THE ROAD, CARTER!”

“I see it!” he shouts back. “And that’s not it, no. You just- Have a way of saying it that I can’t stop thinking about.”

“You know what I can’t stop thinking about?” Kendra asks.

“How much you hate my driving?” Carter teases. 

“Don’t joke about this,” Kendra says. “I’m fearing for my life, here.”

“Well, lucky you,” he says, stopping the car in what Kendra assumes is a parking job. “Because we’re here.”

“Thank God,” Kendra says, her head lolling back against her seat. “I’m going to go pass out, now.”

“Can’t have you doing that,” Carter says. “The day’s just getting started.”

She ignores him, heaves herself out of his car. The site lays out before them, a series of old temples and tombs. Newly opened to archeologists by the government. Ready to go.

It’s funny. The way this tomb is laid out, something about it that Kendra can’t stop staring at it. Staring at staring and she thinks Carter might be saying something to her, but she continues to ignore it. Can’t he see what she’s seeing? These- Temples. This- Site. Can’t he feel that- That- Can’t he feel-

Kendra feels a lurch in her stomach. Almost like she needs to vomit, but not quite. Not like it felt when Carter was driving. This is a persistent, rolling feeling of sudden onset anxiety. Her legs shake, breaths coming shorter and shorter.

Carter catches her before she falls back against the car, brow knit in concern. “Kendra?”

She shakes her head, trying to gulp in as much air as she can, trying to remember how to breathe, how to speak- Why is this happening now?

She’s had panic attacks, lots of panic attacks, but never so suddenly, never this out of the blue, never for no reason. There’s no reason for this to be happening, and yet it is, and there’s a persistent ringing in her ear.

She fists Carter’s shirt in her hands, trying to come up with the words to tell him she’s fine, really, this is just- This is just a misunderstanding, her brain isn’t wired right all the time and she can feel her face burning, not from the heat, and thanks some higher power that at least she can’t blush visibly.

This is humiliating, utterly impossible to come back from, having a quivering panic in front of the site, clinging to Carter Hall for dear life.

“Kendra,” he says, and he takes her wrist. “Look at me. I’m going to count, and you’re going to breathe in time with it, okay? Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

She stares up at him, feeling smaller and more helpless than she’d ever want to feel in front of him in her entire life, and manages to nod.

“Okay,” he says, eyes unfairly green in the morning sunlight. “Just breathe in. Okay? In, and hold it-“

She- Despite her best interests-Does as he asks.

“And out,” he says. His thumb strokes her wrist. “Good. Good. Again. In-“

She loosens her grip on his shirt, feeling her breaths start to come easier, waiting for her blood to stop roaring in her ears. 

“What happened?” he asks, not letting go of her. “Did I say something?”

“No-“ Kendra says, finally pulling back from him. “I was- I was looking at the temples, like, really looking at them, and I was just- You were saying something, and I couldn’t-“ She’s staring at the site again, feeling herself trail off. “Something made me- I don’t-“

“Okay-“ Carter says, tugging her away from the site, over towards the camp on the other side. “You clearly need to get some food in your stomach. Caffeine can aggregate the nerves.”

“That’s the thing,” she says, letting him tug her towards other, human people, people that are going to see her come in with him. People she knows. Who are going to see her come in with Carter Hall. “I’m not- I’m not nervous. I don’t know what happened to me. I haven’t had an attack that bad since I was a grad student.”

“Well,” he says. “Sorry I wasn’t there to help you then.”

It’s kind of a funny thing to say, and Kendra would remark on it, but she can’t seem to get her thoughts in order. “Do you hear that?” Kendra says.

“Hear what?” Carter says.

“Like a low…” Kendra tilts her head back towards the site. “Ringing?”

He blinks at her. Pauses. Wrinkles his nose. “Actually-“ He nods. “Yeah. I do hear it.”

“What is it?” Kendra asks.

He shrugs. “Probably just equipment being set up,” he says. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Come on. We should get you something to eat and put sunscreen on your shoulders.”

“Okay, mom,” Kendra says, finally tugging her wrist out of his hand. 

“Ah, good,” he says. “You’re back.”

“Good as ever,” Kendra says, though she feels a bit like it’s a lie. She can’t shake this fuzz in her head, making her thoughts feel thick and cottony. 

“You sure?” he asks, quietly, uncertain.

She catches his eye and nods. “Perfect.”

“Let me know if you need a ride back to the hotel, alright?” he says. “We’ve got a long couple months ahead of us.”

“With you driving?” Kendra says. “I’ll risk the heat.”

“You wound me, Kendra,” he says.

“You’re still standing, aren’t you?” she replies.

“For now,” he says.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she teases, and doesn’t even mind the way he pokes at her ribs in response.

 

 

He watches her eat. Not in a particularly sharp way, but in the way you would if you were feeding someone. In the sense that he wants to see her do it, that he’s concerned about it. “You know,” Kendra says. “Not everyone is okay with eating in front of other people.”

“Am I bothering you?” he asks.

“Perpetually,” Kendra says. “But not- It’s fine. I was just saying some people don’t like to be watched when they eat.”

“Are there times when it does bother you?” he says.

“I mean, no,” Kendra says. “Not like, often- I mean. If it bothers me, I’ll say something. It’s okay. You’re just. Worried.”

“Have you always had trouble eating in front of people?” Carter asks.

“Pretty sure you’re a PhD in anthro, not psych,” Kendra says.

He stares back at her.

“It’s really a nonissue,” Kendra says. “I was just saying that you watching me chew a croissant was making it kind of difficult.”

“I thought you might not be able to keep food down,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, God,” Kendra says. “The idea of you watching me throw up is so much worse.”

“I’m sure it would be fine,” he says. “I’ve got mouthwash in my car.”

“Oh, just what I’d want after throwing up at work,” Kendra says. “Hot mouthwash.”

“Well,” he says, getting up from sitting across from her so that he can move to her side. “If you’re going to put it like that.”

He offers her the rest of his blueberry muffin wordlessly, and she obliges. 

“Maybe it’s just you,” Kendra says. “You annoy me so much with everything else that I can’t be bothered to worry about eating in front of you.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Carter says. “Maybe you just feel comfortable around me. I have a very soothing presence.”

“You’re certainly a fabulist, I’ll give you that,” Kendra says.

“Excellent use of the word fabulist,” he says. “You know, it’s one of my favorite words.”

“I think any given person could assume that,” Kendra says. And just to make sure he doesn’t steer the conversation back to her, she says, “I can’t believe Dr. Sandsmark brought her daughter along.”

“Have you never worked with her before?” Carter says. “She usually brings Cassie if she’s on break. Otherwise she’s at boarding school.”

“I’d stay at school if I was her age,” Kendra says.

“Oh, come on,” Carter says. “You haven’t wanted to do this since you were a little kid?”

“Have you?” Kendra asks.

“I was born wanting to do this,” Carter says. “I’m just glad it’s as great as I always thought it would be.”

“That sounds pretty perfect, yeah,” Kendra says. “I kind of- Stumbled into it. Signed on to a dig to get out of state for once, and just- Knew it was what I meant to do.”

“What state?” Carter asks.

“Wisconsin,” Kendra says.

“Louisiana,” he tells her, and she can tell he thinks that’s charming.

“I guess it’s no worse than what I usually did during my breaks,” Kendra says.

“Which was?”

“Hang out by myself in whatever local library was nearest,” she says.

“You didn’t have a steady local library?” he asks.

“No parents,” Kendra says. “No one place to live.”

“Ah,” he says, taking a sip of water. “Same, by the way.”

“Oh,” Kendra says. “I didn’t know. I-“

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “I didn’t know either. Kind of funny that we both grew up that way, don’t you think?”

“I mean, if you think about how I’m me and you’re-“ She glances at him. “You.”

He cocks his head towards her, grinning. “Was that a dig?”

“No,” she remarks, evenly. She gestures around them. “This is a dig.”

He laughs. Smiling at her all the while, eyes shining with genuine amusement.

“It wasn’t actually funny,” Kendra says. “Carter.”

His laugh is more contagious when it’s not at her expense, or what she thinks is her expense, or when she’s resenting him for laughing. It’s actually almost kind of nice, makes her feel warmth spreading through her stomach.

“It’s not funny,” she repeats, nudging him with her hand.

“It was hilarious,” he says. “Because we’re on a dig! And you-“

“I get it,” Kendra says.

“You are so funny,” he says, squinting on that last word. “Really, truly hilarious.”

“No, pretty sure I’m not,” Kendra says. “But thanks.”

“You’re feeling better?” he asks, sliding so easily back into earnest that Kendra almost gets whiplash. “You look better.”

She swallows her embarrassment, looking down at the table. “Thanks.” 

“When you’re ready to get started,” he says. “Let me know. I have to go talk to a couple of my colleagues for a second. Okay?”

“You’re good,” Kendra says. “Don’t need my permission.”

For the first time in two hours, he peels himself from her side. It’s not until he’s crossed over to another tent that she lets out a sigh- Maybe not in relief, but she definitely feels something odd, without him buzzing in her space.

The ringing in her head hasn’t stopped, not once, not for the entire time he was talking to her- And mentioning it might’ve made him fuss more, or worse, gotten him to take her to the ER, or something. She can only imagine the kind of nightmare that would be.

Still, she can’t seem to shake this feeling in her chest- It’s a mix of nerves and restlessness, and it’s probably just because Egyptian coffee is too damn good and she’s hyper caffeinated.

That’s all this is.

That has to be all this is.

 

 

“Okay,” Kendra says, handing out sheets of graph paper to her colleagues. “Start your quadrants, remember not to touch anything until we’re all good to go.” 

She’d wandered off to the site without Carter. Surprisingly enough, she hadn’t meant to- She’d just sort of found herself walking towards it without thinking, and by the time she’d come back into her own head she’d been ducking under the entrance.

She hadn’t thought to wait for him, setting up LED lanterns along the corridors and the site. There’s enough cracks along the ceiling and the walls that there’s a decent amount of sunlight- And some parts of the site are completely exposed, sitting out in broad daylight.

For now, though, she stays inside, though the air is thick with dirt. She’s got a spare bandana to tie around her nose and mouth, and it’s already starting to dampen with sweat.

“You know,” Carter announces from behind her. “That is one damn fine quadrant.”

He catches her off guard, and she’s embarrassed at how she jolts in surprise- What’s more embarrassing is that when she turns around, she finds he’s left his good shirt in the car, and is wearing his undershirt tucked into his pants. 

Kendra doesn’t mean to stare, not when he’s been so polite to her, but he’s already kind of shiny and like, really buff, and he’s just holding a clipboard and a pencil and staring at her.

She swallows, tongue heavy with the thick air. “Thanks.”

“Nice bandana, by the way,” he notes. “It brings out your eyes.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Clever.”

“Here,” he says, handing her an actual mask. “My guys brought supplies.”

“I’m good,” she says, if only for the effect of it. 

“These are safer for you,” he says. “And your safety should be your first concern.”

“Is it yours?” she shoots back, and regrets it immediately as he decides to reach behind her head and untie the bandana for her.

“Your safety?” he asks, putting the cloth in his pocket. “Absolutely.” He slips the mask over her head for her, pulling her hair through the elastic. He moves to put it over her mouth-

And she does it more quickly than he can, finding herself breathing heavily, practically panting, his hands still lingering by her face.

“There,” he says, moving to pull his own mask on with ease. “Much better.”

“Th- Thanks,” Kendra says, tucking her head behind her ear. “Um- I haven’t started sketching so-“

“Mind if I tag along?” he asks.

“Oh, Carter,” she says. “You know I do.”

“Perfect,” he tells her. “Shall we start at the far end?”

“We shall,” she says, before she can catch herself.

She can tell what kind of face he’s making at her, even under his mask. His eyes shine in that exact way they always do, that fondness that shines through. She doesn’t quite understand it, why he’s always oozing it around her, but she doesn’t comment on it. 

“Come on,” she grumbles, and he follows.

 

 

By the time Kendra remembers that she needs to pee, she’s pretty sure she’s sweat out at least most of her body weight. It’s been at least a couple of hours, and Carter has been mercifully silent, scribbling down his quadrant. 

“Gonna go find the bathrooms,” Kendra says, nudging Carter in the side with her elbow. “Be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll come with you,” Carter says, taking her arm. “Don’t want you to get lost.”

“I know my way to the exit,” Kendra says. “And you’re still working.”

“This place is a maze, Kendra,” he says, almost like he’s chiding her. “And you’re not feeling well. I don’t want you to get lost or get hurt.”

“I can make it to the bathroom,” she tells him.

He lets out a huff under his mask, kind of a silly, echoing sound, and levels his gaze with hers. “Dr. Saunders,” he says. “Please let me escort you to the bathroom.”

She tries to wrinkle her nose, and can’t, because of the mask- But the intent of the feeling is there. “Well,” she says. “If you’re going to say it like that.”

He takes her clipboard from her and leaves it on the table by the exit, leading her through the corridor and towards the outside.

“It’s this way,” Kendra says, turning to the right.

“No, it’s not,” he says. “The bathrooms were to the left.”

“No, I’m positive they were towards the right,” she says, crinkling her brow in frustration. How stupid does he think she is? “See? I can see sunlight at the end of this.”

“But there’s no string lights in this hall,” Carter says. “And you know that, because you’re the one who set up those LED lights, right? So the exit would’ve been that way. Are you feeling okay? We shouldn’t even be going-”

She doesn’t break stride, still tugging him towards the end of this seemingly endless, dark hallway. “I know I’m going the right way.”

“Kendra,” he says, trying to pull her back. He should be able to- He must at least be twice her strength. But it seems more like she’s carrying him along, unbothered by his efforts. “Kendra, where are you going?”

“To the bathroom,” she says.

“Kendra?” he repeats.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” he says. “Walk faster.”

She gets that familiar lurch in her stomach as they step outside, sunlight flooding her vision. “Oh my God,” she says, suddenly swooning- Yes, swooning- Against him. “Carter, I-“

She pulls off her mask, taking in the noon air, clenching and unclenching her fists.

He tugs off his own mask, letting it hang around his neck. “Kendra,” he says, cupping her cheeks. “Hey. Hey! Look at me. You with me?”

“Do you hear that?” she asks, wincing. “It’s so loud.”

He nods. “I hear it. Okay? I hear it too. Do you want to tell me why we’re-“ He looks over his shoulder. “What part of the site is this?”

“Hold on,” she says, grabbing his wrists for support. “Hold on. It’s so loud I can’t- It’s hard to think and-“ She shuts her eyes, resting her head against his hands.

He rubs his fingers against her temples, whispering softly. “Kendra,” he says. “I think I should take you back to the hotel.”

“I can’t,” she says, eyes snapping open. “Not until I find it.”

“Find what?” he asks. She lets go of his wrists, and he tries to grab her arm. “Kendra. Look at me. Find what?”

She honestly can’t believe he doesn’t know- He should be looking for it, too. She thought he considered himself an archeologist. “Help me find it.”

“Kendra,” he says. “You need some water, and you need to lay down. The heat’s bothering you.”

She looks at him. At him, the whole of him, right into his beautiful, enchanting eyes. “Please help me.”

He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, and lets out a sigh. “Okay.” He raises his hands in surrender. “Okay. I’ll help you find it. Just show me where to look.”

They’re in what remains of an old room- It feels like a tomb, though Kendra can’t be sure yet, since they’ve barely started to investigate. There are two large columns by the rear wall, going up into what used to be the ceiling. Stone floors, mostly dirt. “Here,” she says, walking to her left. “It’s- I can hear it. I think- I think it’s what we’re hearing.”

He closely follows behind her, and she can feel his eyes on the back of her head. “So as you walk that way,” he says. “Does the ringing get louder?”

“Yes,” she whispers. 

“Me too,” he says. “So this must be right. Just- Just find it, okay?”

She drops to her hands and knees, her fingers parting the dirt. 

“Kendra,” he says. “Don’t- We haven’t even sectioned the area off yet, you can’t just go looking around. You know this. I know you know this. What are you _doing?”_

Her hand finds something- Cold, despite the weather. Smooth. She grins. “Here!” She wraps her hand around it, lifting it from the ground. “Look! I found it!”

“You have to put that back,” he says, staring at her wide-eyed. “You know you’re not allowed to do that. What if we mess up the entire context of the site because you moved that? How is that- Is it a knife?”

“Look,” she says, rising from the ground, ignoring the fact that she’s got clear stains on her hands and jeans. “Carter, look!” 

“Hey,” he says, the worry written clean across his face. “Come on. You have to put that down. Okay? I’ll help you. Let me just-“

His hand covers her hand, wrapped around the dagger’s hilt.

Suddenly, her mouth tastes like blood.

She lets out a dry heave, her whole body bursting into a sudden, furious fever.

“Oh my God,” he says, grabbing her arms. “Kendra? Kendra? You look like you’re about to throw up, I’m taking you off site right now and-“

She looks up at his face, her vision swimming. He’s always been so handsome, smiling at her, his eyes lined with kohl. “Oh, Khufu,” she says. “Help me.”

Spots appear in her vision as Carter yells her name. She can see him- She can see him lying right there next to her, the life leaving his eyes, the blood leaving his body, Carter is dying and he doesn’t even know and-

“Help me,” she repeats, and blacks out.


	3. in which kendra starts to get down and dirty with it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after waking up from her incident at the dig site, kendra finds she can't keep carter out of her head. or her hands to herself. what's a girl to do when carter's this quote and like, kind of crazy kissable? wasn't there some archeology going on? this is getting weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut starts here! it's what we've all been waiting for. you earned this, reader. yes, you!
> 
> suggested listening:   
> desire, meg myers

_“You’re radiant, my love.”_

_“You say that every day, Khufu.”_

_“Does that make it any less true? We see the sun every day. Is her beauty marred because of it?”_

_“My prince, I worry your poetry is wasted on me.”_

_“It cannot be wasted on you, love- It wouldn’t exist without you.”_

 

 

Kendra kicks her legs against the mattress, jolting back into the waking world. Her mouth is dry enough that her tongue feels stuck to the back of her teeth. Her tank top is damp and sticking to her chest. She tries to peel her tongue away from her gums, smacking her lips to get her mouth moving again.

“Hey, hey, don’t move so quickly-“

She moves back. “Carter?”

He’s leaning halfway over the bed, resting his hand on the duvet. “Yes?”

She pulls herself into a sitting position. “Why are you in my hotel room?”

“You don’t remember?” he asks. 

“No?” she says, trying to find an answer in his expression. All she’s getting right now is concern, so much of it that it’s making her feel uneasy. “Should I- Should I remember something? What time is it?”

“Late,” he says. “I wasn’t sure you’d wake up until tomorrow morning.”

“Were you going to…” She trails off, looking at her knees, caked with dirt. “Wait for me all night?”

“I had to keep an eye on you,” he says. “You- Kendra, you passed out.”

“I-“ When did her knees get so dirty, actually? Today was just supposed to be for plotting out the quadrant, not actually doing any excavation, so when did she- “Carter, what happened to me?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks. 

She purses her lips. “You put that mask on me,” she says. “And we were sketching something, and then it all just gets… fuzzy.”

“Do you remember having a panic attack this morning?” he asks.

She sucks in a breath. “I think-“ She had, hadn’t she? She’d had a panic attack, and then had breakfast, and then gone to the site, and then- And then- “I remember that, yeah but- What did I do?”

“You said you had to go to the bathroom, remember?” he says. “And then you took me in the complete opposite direction of the bathrooms. And we found- That room. Remember?”

She closes her eyes, trying to picture what he’s talking about. “It was-“ She furrows her brow. “It was the room with the columns, right? And the fires were lit, and there was- That bed. There was a bed, right?”

“Kendra,” Carter says, very softly. “There was nothing in that room but ruins.”

She opens her eyes, turning to stare at him again. “But that’s-“ She sucks on her teeth. “That’s what I remember.”

“You must’ve just dreamt it,” Carter says. “Because I promise you, that’s not what was there. There was nothing there but-“

“But what?” Kendra asks. “Carter, did I- Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he says, too quickly, in a rush to reassure her. “No, you just-“ He looks away from her for a moment. “I must’ve- Forgotten to put it down when you fainted, all I could think about was getting you somewhere safe, and I-“ He reaches for the nightstand next to the bed, Kendra following his hand.

“Carter,” she whispers. “What is that?”

“This-“ He holds the dagger by the hilt, holding it at her eye level. “This is what you found and tried to show me.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kendra says. “I would never- Did I pick that up, or something? We didn’t- Oh my God, Carter, did you take that from the site?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says. “Just like you didn’t mean to pick it up. I just had to- I had to carry you back to the car, and you were muttering to yourself, very softly, and I was so worried-“

“Wait but-“ She can’t stop looking at it. At the blade, a faded gold, the groove in the center that catches the ceiling light. “If I passed out- Shouldn’t I- Shouldn’t I have seen the doctor?”

“I-“ And he’s got the same kind of syrupy slowness in his voice too, and that’s sort of reassuring, that right now his brain is having just as much trouble as hers. “I just thought I had to- Get you back here. You had to- Sleep. You were sleeping.”

“Yeah,” she says, tilting her head and watching the light move around. “I was sleeping.”

That makes sense, she thinks. He didn’t want to worry anyone- She’d just been sleeping. And he had taken care of her.

“Carter,” she says.

“Hm?” 

“I should shower,” she tells him.

His eyes trace up to her face, his gaze her throat tight. She finds herself looking at his lips, at his jaw. “Okay.”

“I-“ She looks at the dagger again, and back to him. The muscles of his shoulders, how little his undershirt does to hide his body. “I’m really sweaty.”

He nods in understanding, and she watches tension in his neck, notes how tightly he seems to be wound. 

“Are you-“ She tilts her head, her curls falling over her shoulder. “Are you going to shower?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sometime. Soon, I think.”

“Okay,” she says, moving towards him, until her body is under his, and swinging her legs over the bed’s side. “Okay, I’ll-“ 

His hand finds the small of her back, having dropped the dagger on the bed. His other hand finds her wrist, and he pulls her up, holding her close to his side.

She presses her hand against his chest. “Carter?”

“Kendra?”

She looks to him, parting her lips and trying to remember what she was going to say. “I should shower.”

He blinks slowly, languidly, like he’s trying to stay awake. “Do you… need help?”

Her hand is moving up his chest without her brain registering it, her nails gently scraping at his chest. “I don’t know.”

“You should go shower,” he says.

“Yes,” she agrees.

 

 

Somehow, she untangles herself from his body, nodding in affirmation to herself. She finds the bathroom light and closes the door, peeling her tank off and tossing it on the floor. Her bra comes off next, and then she fusses with the button of her jeans. Her underwear is clinging to her for dear life, and it’s not until she pulls them down and gasps that she realizes she’s dripping between her legs.

“Oh,” she remarks, mostly to herself, looking at herself in the huge bathroom mirror. At the swell of her chest, and the lines of her stomach. Carter had been right- She’s covered in freckles, all over. Maybe she should show him. Maybe she should show him all the places she’s got freckles. He’d like that.

She runs her finger through her slit, shuddering in relief. “Oh,” she repeats. 

Her body feels sort of heavy, kind of like it doesn’t really belong to her- Like she is something else, someone else, and the skin she is wearing is pinning her down. It’s no small effort to step into the shower, pull the curtain closed, find the faucet. The hot water is a welcome relief. It’s nice to get the feeling of cold sweat off her body.

She tilts her head back under the water, arching her back. Her chest is aching, and she slides her hands over her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers. The ache swells, telling her it’s not enough, that she has to keep going.

Why is she so horny? She can barely breathe. She has to play with herself right now or she’ll lose her mind, and every time she pinches her nipples she can feel it like sparks against her clit.

_“I could dedicate days to your breasts alone, my love.”_

“But then-“ Kendra gasps, kneading her chest with one hand, dragging the other down between her legs. “But that would be torture, Khufu. I’d melt.”

_“Perhaps I want to make you melt.”_

“Please, my love,” she says, rubbing herself with her index finger. “Please don’t tease me, not when I’m like this.”

_“But you’re always like this, my goddess. Always so-“_

Kendra slides one finger into herself, rocking slowly on her hand.

_“Insatiable.”_

She moans, adding another finger, opening herself and making herself full, it feels so good and she knows he loves when she does this, for all his teasing and his smug little smiles, he’s so weak for when she leaks onto her hand in front of him, when she lets everything go and gives in-

_“Now whose teasing, love?”_

“Then touch me,” she pleads. “If I’m teasing you so badly, then-“

_“I want to watch you. I want to wait.”_

“Wait for what?” Kendra asks, leaning against the tile wall. 

_“For you to come undone.”_

“Touch me,” she pleads. “Khufu, please, I need you-“

_“Keep going. Show me how good you feel. Moan for me.”_

She curls her fingers inside herself and whimpers, sliding down against the wall. “My love, please-“

_“Oh, I know my princess, my goddess, I want nothing more than to unfurl my tongue in you but you’re not ready yet, are you? You have yet to come for me.”_

“I-” Her words catch in her throat, pushed down by the noises she makes. Carter can hear her, Carter must be able to hear her, and she can see him listening to her so clearly in her mind’s eye, his cheeks flushed as he adjusts himself in his pants. 

_“That’s it, love. Let it out.”_

She arches her back, her legs locking under her body as she whimpers. “Please,” she says, desperately. “Please, please-”

_“You’re the one doing it. You don’t need my permission.”_

“Want it,” Kendra manages. “Please?”

_“Well then, my goddess- Your prince wants to see you come.”_

She grins, her heart bursting in her chest, blooming again, her body wracked with the pleasure from her fingers. She lets a giggle escape her throat, her breaths coming with ease, it feels so good and so right and so easy, she’s so happy, she’s so-

 

 

She pulls her fingers out of her body, slamming her hand against the shower wall. “What the-”

There’s no one in the bathroom with her- Why would there be? She closed the door and Carter is on the other side.

Oh God. Oh fuck. Carter is on the other side of the door and she was- She was just actually, literally masturbating and it had sounded like- 

She’d actually thought Carter was in the shower with her. And she’d really, really liked it.

“Fuck,” she murmurs to herself, staring at her hand like it’s betrayed her. She feels like she can breathe again, like her mind is finally back in her body. “What the fuck?”

She curls and uncurls her fingers, and for a second, she thinks hears laughter.

She shakes her head. She’s going to wash her hair, she’s going to tell Carter to leave her bedroom, and the two of them will never speak of this again.

Perfect plan.

She opens the shampoo, and is knocked back by a wave of lavender.

_“You don’t like it? It’s usually your favorite.”_

“Shut up,” Kendra snaps, lathering her scalp. “Whoever you are- Just shut up.” 

 

 

She finishes the shower without anymore of- Whatever the hell happened when she got into the shower, and steps out of the tub to remember she hadn’t brought a change of clothes into the bathroom.

For a brief, flickering moment, she dares to hope that maybe the hotel’s towels will be people sized.

She takes one of them off the hook, and is reminded that hope is for someone that didn’t just masturbate in the shower with her colleague in the other room. It’s like, he already knows what she sounds like when she’s orgasming, so why shouldn’t he see what is basically her entire body? Why the fuck not, at this point? Why not just pull him into the bathroom and get this mess over with?

She tries to tug her towel further down her body, and her boob pops out. “Fantastic.”

She doesn’t even want to address that weird… feeling she’s having again. She’d appreciate not having it when her vagina is just like, out there, but sure. Let’s have some of that good, totally out of nowhere horniness again. Perfect.

The bathroom door opens, just a crack, steam pouring out. “Carter?” she asks.

He’s sitting on the edge of her bed, fists balled against his knees and his face flushed red. “Hm?”

“Can you-“ Don’t look at his dick don’t look at his dick don’t- She looked. “Can you turn around? The towels are really tiny and I forgot my pajamas.”

“Oh,” he says, like he know she can see that he’s half-hard in his pants. He adjusts himself on the bed, running his hand against his thigh. “Yes. Of course.”

“Okay,” Kendra says. “Great.”

They make the mistake of making eye contact with one another, and he turns even redder, going slightly purple, even. “Sorry,” he manages, getting up off the bed and turning towards the door. “Good?”

“Good,” Kendra says, creeping out of the bathroom, still clutching the towel to her body. 

She should just show him her body. She really should, he’s already pretty much ready to go, and if he sees her, all damp and shiny, he’s bound to take her on the bed and pound her-

Kendra lets out a choked cough, rubbing the palm of her hand against her forehead. She doesn’t even know Carter, they work together, and he has absolutely not gotten to seeing her boobs yet. 

Her mind wanders again as she pulls her pajamas from her luggage. It’s tempting. It’s entirely too tempting, and she’s not sure why she’s so tempted and horny when she just spent the entire day in what was basically a coma. 

She thinks about him licking the side of her neck, and smacks the back of her own hand. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Carter asks.

“Nothing,” Kendra says, pulling her nightshirt on. “Sorry. My mind is just- Racing.”

“Yes,” Carter says, his voice slightly huskier than before. “I heard.”

Kendra clasps her hand over her mouth at the exact same time Carter does, which would be funny if the two of them weren’t currently trying to decide who should drop dead of shame first.

“Oh my God,” he says. “Oh my God, I don’t know why I said that, that was completely inappropriate and not something- I am so, so sorry Kendra.”

“You can turn around,” Kendra says. “I’m dressed.”

He turns to look at her, embarrassment plain on his face. “I really don’t- It’s none of my business. I truly, honestly don’t know what compelled me to say that. I wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to come on to you, I promise. I’m sorry.”

He could though, a voice in her head tells her. He could come on to her, he could come- “It’s fine,” Kendra says, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m the one that- I mean, I don’t know why I did that, either. With you out here. I should be the one apologizing, I mean you heard me, and-“

Either he’s been walking towards her or she’s walking towards him, but they’re standing in front of the bed and there’s less than a foot between them.

It’s at this point that Kendra’s boobs decide to perk up under her nightshirt, and sure. Carter’s going to see the outline of her nipples. That’s where they are, now.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I mean, really. You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

Kendra nibbles at her lower lip, nodding. “I’m- I’m okay, Carter. I think I should go to bed.”

“Okay,” he says, reaching out to stroke her wet hair. She doesn’t stop him. “Okay. It’s just- Been a weird day. That’s all this is. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

She takes his wrist, studying the way his throat bobs, the way his lips move. “Right.”

“Goodnight, Kendra,” he says, pulling his hand away from her like it’s some Herculean effort.”

“Goodnight, Carter,” she offers.

He tries giving her a smile, and lets himself out of her room.

 

 

She falls back into bed, crawling under the duvet.

Sleep is not coming easy. She’s not even tired- Her entire body feels electric, exposed, like someone’s hooked her up to a generator.

“Fuck,” she mumbles, slipping out of her shirt. “Fucking hell.” Might as well get rid of the pants, if she’s going for it. She balls her clothes up and lays them on the pillow next to her, like maybe they’ll shame her into getting her shit together.

Not likely, because she shuts her eyes and all she can think about is Carter adjusting himself on her bed, and how badly she’d wanted to ask him to stay…

No. Nope. No no no, she did not want to ask him to stay, her mind is just playing dirty tricks on her, and she just can’t seem to get her sex drive under control all of a sudden- But she doesn’t want him in her bed. 

He’s probably in his bed by now, maybe he’s stripped out of his clothes and is in the shower, or maybe he’ll shower in the morning because he’s just so tired.

Yeah. That’s what’s happening, she knows, she can practically see him in her mind’s eye, laying over the covers and trying to steady his breathing with his hand over his stomach, like he’s not desperate to touch himself.

Kendra lets out a little whine in the back of her throat. Okay. Okay. This just happened. She was literally just doing this in the shower, she should be totally fine, she should not be laying in her bed, fantasizing about Carter Hall.

It doesn’t even feel like a fantasy. It feels absolutely real, like she’s staring down at him.

“Jesus, Kendra,” he whines. 

“Oh, babe,” she says, her hand already home between her legs. “Say my name again.”

“Kendra,” he says, finally taking himself in his hand.

“Yes,” she says. “Fuck, yes.”

It’s the strangest thing, really. She’s watching him in her fantasy, speaking to him- And he grins.

“Fuck,” she calls out, and he smiles wider.

It’s like he can hear her, like he’s egging her on, and she can feel how aroused he is, how badly he wants her, and she should just go to him, she should just go to his room and-

“Carter,” she whines. “Oh my God, Carter-“

He moans at the sound of her voice, and she’d go to him, she would, but it’s so hard to move any other part of her body right now.

And it’s so, so much easier to just lie back and lose track of the time.

 

 

_His mouth is on her neck, his body covering hers, thrusting into her like he’s got all the time in the world, like she isn’t gasping and moaning every time he pulls back._

_She tries to reach between her legs, but he grabs her hand, pulling it over her head and pinning it to the bed._

_“Ah-ah,” he scolds. “Let’s not be greedy, Chay-ara.”_

_It’s oppressively hot. Smothering. He seems to glow in the lamplight, like the sun, and all he radiates his heat, overwhelming her. She swoons as he lifts her hips, driving into her as she melts into the bed, her entire body unwinding at his touch._

_“More, my love,” she begs. “More, I need more-“_

_He slides his hand up her stomach, and-_

 

 

Kendra lifts her back off the bed like a woman possessed, digging her nails into the sheets. “Oh my-“ She falls back, her breath coming in short, panting spurts. The AC is blaring, just how she likes it, but she’s drenched in sweat. “What the fuck?”

She shifts into a sitting position, hugging her knees to her chest.

That had been… intense. More than intense. Like it had been happening to her, like she had actually been having sex and not just dreaming of it. She’s still spasming between her legs, desperate for- What had his name been? It had sounded like- It reminded her of- Hadn’t it sounded like him in the shower?

She rubs the palm of her hand against her cheek. “Stop,” she says, softly. “Just stop, please. I’m overwhelmed.”

The funny thing is, she’s not sure who she’s talking to- If it’s the man in her dreams or the pulsing, insistent feeling running through her body that won’t go away.

She finds her phone in the half-darkness of the early morning, tapping the screen until the time shines back up at her. “Fuck,” she repeats. It’s 6:02, and the idea of falling back asleep-

She’ll go to work tired. She runs her hand along the back of her neck, breathing in. Holding it. Sighing out. She swings her legs over the side of the bed, resting her elbows against her knees and her head in her hands.

He’d looked like Carter.

He had… Looked like Carter. That man had Carter’s face, his eyes, his voice.

“Christ,” Kendra groans. She has no idea why her subconscious would be trying to make this a thing like, day three of even being in Egypt. She hasn’t even known him for a full 72 hours. They’ve had drinks. He drove her to work.

He’s her coworker and technically her rival, and he’s smug and smarmy in ways she didn’t even know people could be, and Kendra had just dreamt, intently, for hours, about fucking someone that looked exactly like him.

And then, of course, there had been the shower. 

“Perfect,” she mutters. “Excellent.” 

She unplugs her phone from its charger. 

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

Hey. You said you were an early riser, are you up?

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

Yeah i’ve been up. surprised you are

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

Weird dreams. Don’t want to go back to bed. Can we just like… meet up, or whatever?

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

Definitely. You sure you’re feeling ok though? You don’t have to go out today

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

I can’t be out sick day 2. i’m not even sick i’m just. weirdly wired

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

Me too, actually. 

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

Can I just come down to your room whenever? I need a shower

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

You showered before you went to bed. Are you breaking a fever?

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

You know you’re not that kind of doctor, right?

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

You made that joke yesterday :p

 

TEXT TO: KENDRA :)

FROM: ME

But yeah come down whenever you’re ready. We’ll go get coffee together and then get to the site early. Probably should since we kind of need to return… you know.

 

TEXT TO: CARTER HALL

FROM: ME

Yeah. Yeah we do. Be down in 10.

 

 

This time the shower is, thankfully, far less eventful than the last.

 

 

She makes it down to the third floor before she realizes that she’s achingly hungry, which is probably what would happen after eighteen or so hours of straight sleep and no food. She knocks on Carter’s door a bit more frantically than she’d meant to, hoping to get out of the hotel and get breakfast as soon as humanly possible. Or faster.

“Kendra,” he says, warmly, opening the door and just not wearing a goddamn shirt. “You’re looking much more awake.”

“I’m starving,” she says, keeping her gaze super-intently on his eyes. “Could you suit up and let’s get going?”

“I haven’t shaved yet,” he says. “Got into the shower the same time you did, figured you wouldn’t be down so quickly.”

“You look-“ She gestures at his stubble. “Fine. It’s- It’s a good look, Carter. Just throw a shirt on and let’s go.”

“Please come in,” he says. “You’re making me feel terribly rude, having you stand in the hall like this.”

She lets out a huff and makes sure Carter can see, really get a facefull, of her rolling her eyes at him.

“If you’re that hungry, order room service,” he says. “I’ll cover it. You should eat.”

She doesn’t love the idea of him covering a meal for her, but in that gut-instinct way that she always feels when men offer to buy her something. It’s surprisingly not a Carter-specific problem, and she’s handled enough assholes that she thinks she can deal with Carter’s fairly genuine proposal for a hot meal.

God. He’s such an ass. 

“I mean,” Kendra says, not sure if she should sit on his unmade bed or not. “If you’re going to twist my arm about it.”

“Order me an omelette, please,” he says. “Um- Mushrooms. Wait. No, no mush- Yes, I do want mushrooms. Swiss? No-“

“Carter,” she says. “You’re getting the omelette that’s on the menu.”

He seems entirely pleased with this, too pleased, chuckling to himself. “Whatever you say, boss,” he says. “Makes my life easier.”

She kind of likes him calling her boss, in like a fun and powerful sort of way, and immediately takes that feeling and crushes it. Crushes it into dust. “Don’t know how you’ve ever had a meal in your life,” Kendra says. “If that’s how you order food.”

“Lucky I have you, then,” he says, and he does this horrible thing where he taps her shoulder with his fingers in this fond way.

She wants to immediately say, ‘You don’t have me,’ but kind of doesn’t want to, so she opts for, “Yeah. I guess you are.”

“Sit on the bed,” he says. “Please. Order food. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es-“

“Nope,” Kendra says, but she sits down anyway. “I got the picture, thanks.”

“I’m gonna-“ He gestures to the bathroom. “I’m gonna go shave.”

“Good luck,” Kendra offers.

“Thank you,” he says, like he means it.

She gives him a tiny little salute with her two fingers, and tries not to feel something when he returns the gesture before turning away.

She shakes her head, grabbing the room service menu off his nightstand and shifting onto her stomach. 

She manages to get out a small noise of distress before she's overwhelmed- She hadn’t noticed when she had been sitting down but now she’s practically stuck her face in it and he left his nightshirt on the bed and he smells so, so good-

Like fuck, she could really just put her face against his neck and just let him hold her, let herself fall into the tide of him, the gentle way he smiles at her and the things he'd say to her, like, like- 

_Getting overwhelmed, my love?_

She lets out a gasp, pushing herself onto her knees. “Carter, I-“

The faucet is still running in the bathroom. Carter isn’t even in the room- He didn’t see her, he didn’t know- But then why did she hear his voice?

He didn’t even hear her over the running water.

Kendra clutches the menu to her chest, still staring at the bathroom doorway. “Carter?” she says, much louder this time.

“Yeah?” he calls back.

“You didn’t come in here for a second, did you?” she replies.

“What?” he says. “No.”

“Okay,” she says. “Sorry. I thought I heard something.”

“Do you need me to come check the door?” he asks.

“No I’m-“ She sucks in a breath. “I’m good. Sorry. Keep shaving.”

“Just call if you need me,” he says.

She doesn’t respond, opting instead to sit up straight, on the bed, and not lay on the bed in any capacity, and just order some damn breakfast.

For a moment, her mind wanders to the idea of pulling him onto the bed when he finishes shaving, and kissing his jaw and holding his face in her hands-

“Shit,” she mutters, and picks up the phone to order breakfast.

 

 

They still make it to the site relatively early- Carter’s driving remains terrifying, and the idea that he drove like that, panicked, with her sleeping in the car- It’s kind of a miracle that they made it back to the hotel last night. 

Kendra watches Carter check his jacket pocket for the dagger, nodding to himself and then offering her a smile. “It’s going to be fine,” he says. “No one’s even going to notice.”

“But I’ll notice,” she says. “I was so- What’s wrong with me? I could ruin everything, I could-“

“Kendra,” he says. “It was an accident. If anything happens, I’ll take the heat. You’re not going to get in trouble.”

She wets her lips against her tongue. “Okay. I’m- I’m good.”

His hand finds her shoulder, and stays there as he walks with her. “It’s a good day for some real work, yeah?” he says. “We’re going to be fine.”

She almost tilts her head towards his hand, but catches herself. Thank God. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Um, do you remember which-“ Her voice catches in her throat, the answer already laid out in front of her. “It’s this way.”

“Lead the way,” he says. “You’re the one who got us here.”

The morning mist mixes with dirt and sand in the open halls of the temple, seeming to drag around their ankles. “It’s strange,” she said. “That it’s just us. It feels haunted.”

“I think it’s beautiful,” Carter says. “Kind of roman-“ He clears his throat. “It’s… ethereal.”

“Nice save,” she offers, and doesn’t tell him that he’s right. That for some weird reason, being in what essentially equates to a tomb, with him, in the very early morning, just feels kind of- Kind of nice. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” she says. “Anxious, I guess.”

“But not dizzy?” he says. “Feverish, nauseated-“

“Insert joke about you making me feel ill,” Kendra mutters, guiding Carter into the hall. “We forgot to plug in the lights.”

“It’s pretty easy to see without them,” he says. “And, well-“

“Well?” Kendra says.

“We really shouldn’t be in here by ourselves anyway. Don’t want to let people know we’re here.”

“Oh, look at that,” Kendra says. “Anxiety spike ahoy.”

“We’ll be fine,” he promises. “I’m just saying. Let’s not draw undue attention when we're just fine without the lights.”

“Fair enough,” Kendra says, reaching out to run her fingers against the wall. Smoothed down by time, coated with a thin layer of dirt. “Let’s make this quick.”

“It shouldn’t be that much farther ahead,” he says. “If I’m remembering where you lead us correctly. Why did you lead us this way, anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” Kendra says. “I still can’t really remember even being here. Most of yesterday is fuzzy.”

“You seemed-“ He purses his lips. “Like you were in a trance. Like Dracula was calling to you, or something. Your eyes were all glazed over, and-“

“And you watch too many vampire movies, apparently,” Kendra says. “If we run into Dracula, I’ll be sure to tell him you’re a big fan.”

“Who doesn’t love vampires?” Carter says. “The passion, the intrigue, the danger-“

“The sex,“ Kendra says, before she can stop herself. She turns her head to him, trying to seem like she didn’t just absolutely embarrass herself. “I mean-“

“No, no, you’re right,” Carter says. “Most fantastical series revolve around sexual desire at their core- Either in praise of it or to demonize it.”

“I see,” Kendra says.

“I minored in Classics,” he says.

“And the Anne Rice?” Kendra says. “Was that in your curriculum?”

“It all starts somewhere,” Carter says. “That’s what’s so interesting about it.”

She lets out a small hum of agreement. “You’re actually… sort of smart, Carter.”

“Glad you think so,” he says. “Certainly makes the years of student loans worthwhile.”

Her eyes follow the sunlight cast against the far wall, the doorway that looms before them.

Her heart pounds in her chest. “Carter?”

“Yes?”

“If I faint again,” Kendra says. “Take me to the hospital this time. Please.”

“Will do,” he says. 

“I’m going to try not to, though,” Kendra says, goosebumps dotting her arms. She feels a slight chill, and wonders if it’s because it’s so early or because they’re getting closer to the doorway.

She’s not wondering. She knows the answer. She just doesn’t want to admit it.

Without thinking, she wraps her hand around Carter’s, pulling him off her shoulder and squeezing his hand firmly in her grasp. 

“Do you want me to go without you?” he says. “You’re- Kind of getting that look again.”

“Just-“ Kendra swallows what little she can manage. “Keep an eye on me.”

“Of course,” he says. “Always.”

She nods sharply, and steps outside.

 

 

The sun is harsher than she thinks it should be, almost blindingly white. She winces, putting her arm to her forehead. “This is… it?” she asks.

“This is it,” he says. “This is where you told me the bathroom is.”

“This is not where the bathroom is,” Kendra tells him.

“I’m aware of that,” Carter says.

“Did I say anything else?” she asks.

“Not while we were here,” he says. “You told me last night that the fires were lit, and that there was a bed.”

“In here?” Kendra asks. Her eyes are adjusting finally, and it’s- Well. It’s ruins.

“Yes,” he says. 

She blinks a couple times, tilting her head. “A bed?”

“Yes,” he says. 

“I think-“ If she looks at it just right, she can see it. She can see the stuffed mattress, the frame. Shouldn’t it be rotted away by now? Shouldn’t the lamps be out? And the fabric strewn over the walls, and the plants- “You don’t see it?” She walks closer towards the bed, the fires casting her shadow against the floor. Carter follows behind her, holding tightly onto her hand. 

“Kendra,” he says. “Kendra, there’s-“

She spins around, almost knocking him back. “Carter,” she says, giving him a once over. “What are you wearing? Where’s your shirt?”

“It’s-“ He tilts his head. “It’s still on, Kendra, and-“

She shakes her head. “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” he says. “You think?”

“Something,” she puts her hand to her head. “Please,” she says. “Just see it. Just try to see it.”

He stares at her face, furrowing his brow. “I don’t-“

“Please,” she repeats.

His features soften, so suddenly that if it should startle her. “I-“ He blinks at her. “You’re so beautiful, Kendra.”

She watches the lamps cast shadows on his face. “Oh,” she says, softly.

“Did you know that?” he asks, taking a step towards her. Taking his hand in his. “You’re the most beautiful woman in all of creation.”

She finds herself getting terribly lost in his gaze, and when he puts his fingers under her chin, she says, “Yes.”

His brushes against her lower lip with his mouth. Pecks her once, softly, and then kisses her in earnest. She shuts her eyes. He’s soft, kind, something tender and slow and unspoken but understood. It feels overwhelmingly, breath-holdingly intimate, more intense than it should be. It feels- He feels-

She pulls back, gasping, putting her hand over her chest. Ruins. They’re surrounded by old ruins and nothing else. “Oh my God.”

He’s shell-shocked, she thinks, as he brings his fingers to his lips. “Kendra, I-“

“You- We- I-“ The wind picks up at that moment, blowing her hair into her face. It feels like it’s trying to push her forward, back against Carter. Or maybe that’s just what she wants? “I need to go get some water.”

Carter reaches for her, guilt seeping out of his every pore. “I’ll come with-“

“Please, Carter,” Kendra says. “I just need to be alone.”

He tucks his hand back. “Right,” he says. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s- It’s fine,” she says, moving past him and into the hall. “It’s totally fine.” 

She makes it back to the LEDs before she starts shaking, and back to the front of the temple before her head starts to swim.

_Come back, my love. We’re just getting started._

“Nope,” Kendra tells him, and now she is certain that it is a him. “Just leave me alone.”

_As you wish,_ he says. 

The silence isn’t as comforting as she wants it to be.

 

 

Carter is nice enough to spend the rest of the day at about six feet away from her at all times, looking like a freshly kicked puppy the entire time. Every time she catches his gaze, she gets a pang in her chest- But fuck, she doesn’t want to talk to him about it. 

And he doesn’t approach her for a conversation, not until the end of the day, when he says, “You know, I’m still your ride home.”

Kendra’s still scribbling something onto her clipboard. At some point, she’d put her hair up- At another, she’d put a separate pen between her teeth for safe keeping. But the day’s been long enough and hot enough that she can’t remember what that pen was for, or where she got the pen she’s writing with from. 

But she actually got a day’s work in, and didn’t pass out. So that’s a success.

“Hm?” Kendra asks.

Carter takes the pen out from between her teeth. “I’m your ride, Kendra.”

Which is a thought she’d been trying to avoid all day, because he would be a good one, wouldn’t he? He’s so strong, and- And this is why she’d wanted him to keep those six feet this entire day. “You mean,” Kendra stares at him. “You mean my ride home.”

“What else would I mean?” Carter asks. 

“Um,” Kendra shakes her head. “Long day. Sorry.”

“I know,” he says.

“Thanks,” she says. “For still being my ride.”

“Of course,” he says. “I wouldn’t ditch you over something so- Well-“

“Weird,” Kendra says.

He flinches, slightly. “Yes,” he says. “Weird.”

“Not like-“ She rolls her tongue against her bottom teeth. “Bad weird. Just weird because- Of a lot of things.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

“Have any plans tonight?” Kendra asks him, leaving her clipboard on the table and following him out. “I heard the St. Roch group was going out, but-“

“No,” he says. “No, I don’t- I don’t think that’s a good idea, tonight.”

A pause. It feels like approximately thirty years.

“You?” he asks. “Are you going anywhere?”

“To bed,” Kendra says. 

“Solid plan,” Carter says. 

She offers him a closed-lipped gesture of agreement, and they walk the rest of the way to the car in silence.

 

 

They’re about ten minutes from the hotel, stopped at a red light, when Carter goes, “We could do something.”

Kendra look away from the window, raising her eyebrows. “What?”

“You and I,” he says. “We could go… out. If neither of us are doing anything tonight.”

“Oh,” Kendra says, nodding at him. “ _Oh.”_

“Yeah,” he says. “I know this place-“

“You’re asking me out,” she says.

“Yes,” he says. “I am asking you out.”

“Because you kissed me?” Kendra asks.

“No,” he says. “I mean- It didn’t hurt, but I- I mean, I would’ve if we hadn’t. I wanted to.”

“It’s been three days, Carter,” Kendra says.

“Yes,” Carter says. “And I like you, I think you’re- Great. And so I thought I shouldn’t waste the time pining.”

Part of her says, You barely know me. And part of her says, Let’s skip to the date and just get to the part I’m desperate for. And the part of her that speaks says, “Yeah. You’re not so bad yourself.”

So way to go, part that speaks. Nailed it.

He lets a slight smile cross his face, taking an incredibly sharp left. “High praise.”

“From me to you?” Kendra says. “Yeah.” 

“So is that a yes?” he asks. 

“It’s not a no,” Kendra says. “It’s just- I slept like shit last night. And if we go out for drinks, I’ll probably pass out. Again.”

“Sure,” Carter says. “Absolutely. I- Yeah, you said you were tired. Sorry. Kind of jumped the gun, I think.”

“I mean, it’s not like I don’t know you like me,” Kendra says. “You did kiss me this morning.”

“You kissed me!” he protests. “You practically flung yourself at me.”

“Um, you’re the one who took your shirt off,” Kendra says.

His face falls. “What?”

“You weren’t wearing a shirt, remember?” Kendra says. “Can’t imagine why, though-“

“Kendra,” he says. “I- What did you say to me before we kissed?”

“Um-“ She looks down to her hands. “I don’t remember.”

“I can picture you saying something,” he says, staring at her. “But I don’t know what you said. It was… poetic, I think. You have such nice lips-“

“Carter!” she snaps her fingers in front of his face. “You’re driving!”

He jolts like he’s just been woken up, and swerves the car back into their lane. 

Which is normal driving for Carter. But still.

“Holy shit,” Kendra says. “What just happened?”

“I don’t-“ He stares straight ahead, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” Kendra says, shrinking into her seat. “Neither do I.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine,” Kendra says. She doesn’t think about how sweet he had been, how he’d started to look at her, how she’d been falling, falling, fall-

What would’ve happened if she hadn’t woken up?

And why did looking at him feel like falling asleep? Or at least- Like being in a dream.

She lifts her feet onto the seat, with no small effort given the size of the car. She rests her head on her knees, and says nothing.

 

 

Despite her reassurances, Carter still walks her to her room. There hasn’t been a night yet that he hasn’t, and knowing Carter, she’s sure he’s going to make a routine out of it- A habit, at the very least.

“So,” Kendra offers, fishing for her room key in her front pocket. “Today… happened.”

“Yes,” he says. “That is one way to put it.”

She ignores that her back is against the door, that he’s standing right in front of her, maybe closer than comfort should allow. That he’s kind of glistening from a day’s work, that he has dirt spread across his cheek. “And something is… kind of wrong with us, I think,” Kendra says. She wrinkles her nose. “Where is my key?”

“Wrong?” Carter says. “What’s wrong?”

“Did I give you my key?” Kendra asks. “Can you check your coat?”

He reaches into his coat. “What do you mean wrong?” he says. “It was just a kiss, really-“

“And I’ve been-“ She pulls her lips into a line. “I’ve been hearing some guy? Like all day? And I keep thinking it’s you? But then you’re nowhere near me, and-“

“Kendra,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I thought I was, and then you almost crashed the car and I almost kissed you while you were doing it, and your voice or whoever’s voice won’t leave me alone and it makes me so-“ She swallows the last word, pressing her hand against the door. Willing it to open.

He studies her expression. “So?”

“It’s not important,” Kendra says. “Do you have my key?”

He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think- Oh my God.”

“What?” she says.

He looks down, and pulls the dagger out from his jacket. “We forgot to put it back.”

“How?” she says. “I left you there! I told you to put it away!”

“I was going to,” he says. “I thought I did, you’d think I would notice if it was still tucked into my jacket, I don’t-“ 

She stares at the knife in his hand, tilting her head. “It’s nice.”

“What?” he says.

“It’s a nice artifact,” Kendra says. “I like it.”

“Okay,” he says, tilting her chin up with his free hand. “Kendra, look at me. Is this what you’re talking about?”

She pulls her hand out of her pocket, and wipes the dirt off his cheek with her thumb. “We could keep it,” she says, stroking his cheek.

He looks at her lips, traces his gaze along her neck, down her collarbone. “Yeah,” he says, slowly. “We could.”

This time, there will be no debate of who kisses whom- It is in equal measure, less of his gentle romance and more of his hand taking the back of her head and holding her in place. She grabs his hips, and he takes that to mean he should pin her against the door with them- And yes, fuck yes, that’s exactly what she meant by it.

She tilts her head and his nose brushes hers, pulling away from his mouth just to move against him again this time, more intently. She’s sure she should be breathing, probably, and maybe she is, maybe she’s panting as they kiss and kiss and _kiss-_

He drops the dagger to move his hand to her stomach, thumbing the wrinkles of the fabric and making her shudder. She nips at his lower lip. He starts to untuck her shirt from her jeans and-

“Carter,” she gasps, moving to hold him by the back of the neck. He kisses her collarbone, and her eyes flutter. She wants this, she needs this, her entire body is begging for it. She rolls her hips against his leg, and again, and again- “Please, my love, I-“

He stumbles back. 

She slumps against the door, desperate for air.

“Did you just say you love me?” he says.

She shakes her head, running her fingers against her skin, she can still feel his mouth there and fuck, _fuck-_ “I don’t- What did I say?”

He looks at her lips, and back into her eyes. “I- I don’t really- We should-“

She puts her hand against the center of his chest. “What are we _doing_? We’re in the hallway and I- We-“ She was humping his leg, to be blunt, and while she’s on the topic of bluntness she should mention that her underwear is soaked and what the actual, ever-loving fuck?

“Maybe we should both just go to bed,” Carter says. “Okay? Let’s just… cool down. Go to sleep.”

She nods in agreement. “Yeah. I’ll uh- I’ll see you in the morning, Carter.”

He backs away, one step behind the other, like he’s half-waiting for her to change her mind- Or maybe because he hasn’t made up his. “See you in the morning,” he says, and finally allows himself to turn away, disappearing down the hallway.

Kendra slides her back down the door, falling onto her ass with her legs splayed out in front of her. She idly picks up the dagger where he’d dropped it, wondering if he’d forgotten about it entirely.

She tilts it in her hand, noticing something odd along the blade. An inscription?

Had that been there before?

Kendra leans closer to it, and yeah, that’s definitely… something. It’s not in any language she’s ever seen before.

_It’s a gift, my love._

This time, Kendra doesn’t question what he’s saying. “For me?”

_Who else?_

Kendra rests her head on the door. She should go get a spare key from the front desk. Or try harder to find her own. She should want to do something, anything but march down to Carter’s room and make him handle this, make him fix this, maybe then the longing and the desperation and the _horniness_ will stop-

“Hey, guy in my head?” Kendra says, quietly. “Could you make this all stop?”

_My goddess,_ he says. _You should know we’re only getting started._

She lets out a small groan- It’s half distress, half sexual frustration.

There’s no way she’s going to be able to sleep tonight.


	4. In Which Kendra Forgets Why She's Fighting a Losing Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's three things you need to know about this chapter: Sex dreams, Kendra gets eaten out, there's some frottage in some ruins I am so sorry to any actual archeologists out there. There's also a lot of emotional stuff? But we all know what we're here for.

In the first dream, Carter’s head is between her legs, and she wakes up gasping, bucking her hips off the mattress, like she’s still trying to ride his mouth.

She gets out of bed, taking heavy footed steps into the bathroom. She peels off her underwear, and then her tank top. 

The shower is turned on as cold as she can manage. “Fuck,” she says to herself, feeling at once like she’s stuck in the sleeting rain. “Fuck, fuck, that is SO cold-“ She braces her hand against the shower wall, trying to forget what Carter’s tongue felt like against her.

It was just a dream. It had only been a dream. But it still feels so personal. Like she won’t be able to look Carter in the eye ever again. Since she knows the ridges of his tongue now. It feels like a memory, like they’d fooled around and she’s just now remembering it- But that’s not possible, because she’s never met Carter before. And she’s never had someone go down on her so well, not like that, not like how Carter knew how to do it-

Or, in actuality, how her brain thought he would do it. Because it had never actually happened. 

She turns off the shower, towels off, and makes it back to bed.

It doesn’t even dawn on her that she forgot to put her clothes back on.

 

 

In the second dream, she’s letting Carter fuck her mouth. He strokes her hair, and she hums in contentment, her body buzzing with pleasure from his pleasure. 

“You feel so good, Katie,” he says. “My sweet little Cinnamon. You’ve got such pretty lips all wrapped around my cock.”

She’s dripping onto her thighs, inconsolable in her arousal, and when he says, “I’m going to come down that silky throat of yours,” she takes him further into her mouth, silently begging him to come and let her-

“Oh my God,” Kendra says, waking up, coughing. “Oh my God, oh my God-“ She doesn’t even- Like doing that. She’s always, always tried to avoid sucking dick when she can, but give her Carter Hall and suddenly she can’t get enough?

She doesn’t even like him that much. So why the hell would she want to suck him off?

Just the idea of putting him in her mouth is… Is…

Well. It seemed pretty nice, actually. And if the first dream had been anything to go by, he was certainly happy to reciprocate.

She shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She has no idea what oral sex with Carter would be like, and she absolutely has no idea what his literal actual penis would feel like in her mouth, and just- Fuck.

This time, she has a glass of water after her shower. It feels more like doing it for the sake of doing it- Her mind is still reeling. She’d seemed to like it so much, to love it, to get off on giving head- To Carter. Specifically.

And had he called her Cinnamon, or something?

She rinses her mouth for good measure, and goes back to bed.

 

 

There’s no use pretending there won’t be a third dream, and she knows this even as she slips back into sleep. That this is some kind of inevitability, that she’s just prolonging her own frustration by denying it.

And when she dreams this time, it never even occurs to her that she could deny it. That she could fight this, that she could stop it from happening. The idea that she’d even want to seems so far away, now, a foreign concept that applied to someone else.

He’s holding her by the hips and fucking her from behind. And fucking is a good word for it- He is pounding her, and she is absolutely, irrevocably loving it. When she tosses her head back, he moves one hand to her throat, his thumb pressed to her jaw. He lifts one leg onto the bed, pushing deeper into her.

“Harder,” she begs. “Please, please, harder-“

His hand leaves her throat and finds her back. He shoves her down against the mattress, ass still in the air, and she whimpers, moving against him. She shivers against the bed, moaning into the mattress, letting him know just how pleased she is with him.

He curls his fingers against her back. “My love,” he says. “You are too good to be denied.”

“Mm,” she says, grinning against the bedsheets. “Fill me then, Khufu. Show me how much you love me.”

He tries to slow down, to prolong himself, and she bucks back against him.

“I said now, my love,” she says, her voice sharp but loving.

He grabs her until she starts to hurt, moaning, gasping, and he-

Kendra wakes up feeling like she’s coming, crying out and thrashing under the covers. Her hips push up into the air and she holds them, quivering as Khufu comes and comes and-

“No,” she says, softly. “No, he’s not-“

She falls, letting out a sharp, anxious breath. 

“Oh my God,” she says, panting, reaching between her legs. “Oh my God, I-“ It’s just her, just her and the orgasm she just actually had, and no one’s come in her. No one’s even here. 

She blinks up at the ceiling. Khufu. Khufu, Khufu-

She gets out of bed, grabbing the hotel bathrobe from the closet. She tucks her room key and her phone into the front pocket and ties the waist tightly. For a moment, she catches her reflection- She could put something into her appearance, she supposes, but this doesn’t really feel like this kind of situation.

With a heavy sigh, she lets herself out into the hall. She doesn’t notice that she’s forgotten shoes entirely.

 

 

The first knock on Carter’s door is a soft one, for fear that she’ll wake up anyone else in the hall. There’s no response. She knocks again, still soft. Chews on her lower lip. “Carter?” she whispers. “Are you awake?”

She rolls her foot against nubby hotel carpet. Why had she forgotten shoes? Why had she just- Walked out? And she’s only in a bathrobe. She doesn’t even have underwear on, she didn’t even bother to wipe the wetness from between her legs, and her thighs feel kind of sticky. 

“Carter,” she repeats, still in a whisper. She knocks on the door again. He’s asleep. He’s asleep and this is a bad idea, she can just go upstairs and masturbate until she passes out again. That’ll be her life now. That’s fine.

She takes a step back from the door at the exact second it opens. “Kendra?”

She doesn’t meet his eyes, choosing to immediately turn her gaze to the floor. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he offers. “It’s- Late.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Did I wake you?”

“No, actually,” he says. “I’ve- I’m having trouble sleeping.”

“Oh.”

“I just-“ He pauses. “I didn’t think it was actually you, at first. I thought I was still-“

Kendra follows the line of his body- The duvet he’s wrapped around himself, brushing the floor and concealing his lower body. “Are you wearing any underwear?” she asks, sort of absent minded, sort of curious.

He shifts under the blanket. “Are you?”

She chews on her tongue, finally meeting his gaze. She shakes her head.

“Do you-“ He's having trouble focusing on her face. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I do.” 

 

 

She brushes past him, hip brushing his. “So,” she offers. “What have you been- What’s- Um… You?” Her hands settle into the pockets of her robe, fingernails scraping terrycloth. She walks a few steps closer to the bed, hearing him close the door. “What’s keeping you awake?”

“What’s keeping you?” he asks, eyes on the back of her head.

“I keep having- I, I-”She’s in his room, and there’s no blanket on his bed because he’s wearing it, and she’d just asked him about his underwear, and holy shit, holy actual shit. “I keep having really vivid dreams.”

“Nightmares?” he asks.

“No,” she says, softly. “Not nightmares.”

“Then,” he’s closed in on her, his hand on her arm, his breath on the back of her neck. He’d moved so quickly, she hadn’t been thinking, but if he wants to he could just push her onto the bed and- “What are you dreaming about?”

She takes in a gulp of air as his hand strokes up her arm, across her back. “Why are you awake, Carter?”

He finds the tie of her robe. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She thinks of him wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her against his chest. “I- Carter- You-“

He fiddles with the knot she’d tied, and now his other hand is on her hip, which means he’s not holding the blanket around his waist anymore, which means the only thing between them is her bathrobe. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” he asks, slipping his thumb into the knot loop. His lips are against her neck, he’s not even trying to pretend they aren’t, and so she won’t try to pretend she doesn’t let out little moans as he kisses up the back of her neck.

“We-” She can’t breathe, she can’t think, fuck, fuck- “We work together.”

“And?” he asks.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why she’s even trying anymore. She needs this, but some part of her is right. She knows that much. And yet- Maybe she doesn’t need to be right. Maybe being sort of right is the worst thing she could possibly be. “This could ruin my reputation.”

“I won’t let it,” he says, lips against her neck. He finally, victoriously unties her robe. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“I can’t do this with you,” Kendra says, even as her entire being protests the very statement. “I can’t- Touch you. I barely- I don’t even know you. You’re my coworker and-”

He pulls her robe open and she gasps. It feels like an overwhelming part of her is begging her to shut up. To let him see her and touch her. She’s literally, seriously, aching with the need for him. “Don’t touch me, then,” he says. “If I just touch you, then you have nothing to be worried about. You won’t have done anything.”

Her eyes flutter as he runs his finger up her stomach. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, that- That makes sense.”

“Anything to please you,” he says.

A shiver runs up her spine. “Carter-“

“Can I put my hand between your legs?” he asks.

An urgent little sound escapes her throat. “Yes,” she says. “Yes you- You may.”

He nips at her ear, and she knows he’s grinning, she just knows, even as he slides his hand down her stomach, even as his- Oh. He’s hard against the back of her leg, and that’s making her see stars. 

He gently brushes her clit once, then drags his finger downward. She’s so wet she’s almost humiliated by it. Then she’s more turned on by her almost humiliation, and at this point it’s a lost cause. “Have you been like this all night?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says.

“You poor thing,” he says, circling her with his thumb. “You’re sure about this?”

“I need it,” she says, pleading. “I really do, I’m sorry we should just have sex we should-“

His thumb slides inside her. It’s so good it hurts. It’s a strain on her body to hold back, to keep from impaling herself, from begging for more. She’d said- She’d said something about- She doesn’t even remember anymore, with him gently twisting his thumb inside her. 

He cuddles her against his chest, rocking her against his hand.

“Carter,” she whimpers, the rationale behind her silence failing her, the rationale of anything falling just short of making it into a fully formed thought.“I want- I need-“

“Sh, sh,” he says, bracing her against his leg. “Let’s do whatever makes you happiest.”

“You,” she says, half moaning. “You make me happy.” She rolls her head back, resting against him, the words dripping out of her without any thought at all. “You smell so good and you’re so strong, I can’t stop thinking about you fucking me, I can’t stop-“

“Okay,” he says softly, like he’s still got some handle on the situation. “I know just what you need. Trust me.”

She whimpers. “I do,” she says. “I do trust you.”

He withdraws, and she almost sobs in frustration but she’d promised, she’d promised. He tugs her robe off her shoulders.

His hand is on the small of her back. “Chay-ara,” he whispers. “Would you lay down for me?”

“Yes,” she says, too quickly. “Yes, of course-“

“On your back,” he adds.

 

 

As strange as she might’ve found it just hours ago, she now thinks it’s incredibly easy, incredibly right, to lay her body out against his bed. She is very, very happy, she realizes. Thart he is looking at her, and that she is completely naked for him. For another person. Just the one.

For a moment, she thinks back to drunkenly laughing with him outside her bedroom door, that had only been night one, just a couple of hours of his presence. And oddly, the idea that she had ever not done been like this with him feels entirely like a different person’s thinking.

She blinks a couple of times, realizing suddenly that her heart is pounding in her chest. “Carter?”

“Yes?”

“Are we… good?” she asks.

He gives a lopsided grin, his hand gently grasping her ankle. “Why would we not be?”

“I-“ She watches his hand climb up her leg. From her ankle to her calf, to her knee. “I don’t want you to think less of me. I don’t want you to do this and then- Not be here.”

She supposes that if she’s unable to stop herself from talking to him, that means the bad shit will come out, too- She’s not entirely sure where it came from, and desperately wants it to go away. 

He pauses at her knee. “Kendra,” he says. “My love. No matter how you’d wanted me, I wouldn’t leave you.”

Something- Something is almost off about that, but she can’t put her finger on it. 

“I will be here until you tire of me,” he says. “And then I will wait for you to come back.”

“Oh,” Kendra says. “I- Okay. That’s- That’s good.” She lets the words sink into her, like falling into a hot bath. “That’s really, really good.”

“May I eat you out now?” he asks. “I think it would help you a great deal.”

She smiles to herself. “Yeah,” she says, spreading her legs for him. “You would think that.”

“Well,” he says, moving to rest on his stomach. “I am a PhD. My deduction skills are quite spectacular.”

“You’re such an-“ And he moves in without pretense, his mouth covering her like he’s made to do it, tongue flicking against her clit. “Oh my God,” she whines, reaching down to push his head against her. “Your mouth feels so- So-“ Her mind falls out of her ears again, replaced by the singular, consuming pleasure of Carter eating her pussy. 

He braces his hands against her thighs as he lets out a noise against her- She bucks at the feeling of it, tugging on his hair.

“Do that again,” she says.

He makes another noise. This one is more of a hum, more conscious, where the other one had just sounded like- Like he couldn’t control himself, like he’d loved eating her out that much, like it’s just as good for him to suck on her clit as it is for her to have her clit sucked on.

“You could-“ She forgets her words. She forgets herself, bracing her palms against the wall behind her. “Oh, please touch yourself,” she says. “I can’t- I can’t- You-”

He doesn’t listen to her. He obeys her- But he doesn’t obey her words. He obeys her wants, and how he knows that all she wants is for him to tighten his grip on her thighs, she wants him to bruise her skin with his fingertips, wants to have hickeys on her legs and her breasts and her neck because fuck, his mouth, his mouth is amazing, it’s so good, it’s all she ever wants, this is all she wants, to be fucked on his mouth because she’s his princess, she’s his goddess-

“Carter, oh my God,” she repeats. “Oh my God, please- I-” She thinks she’s smiling, gasping, writhing- She thinks this is the best feeling she’s ever had in the whole world. She’s happy. It makes her happy. Happier than she can remember being, just a big, sexy mess, just a happy girl who’s going to-

It’s all at once, it’s feels like she’s greeting something she used to know, something so wonderful and good that she had once been familiar with. She’d come before but never like this, never ever like this. She groans out in relief, in pleasure, finally, finally, it’s so much better on his mouth than it is on her own fingers, and if she’d known that she would’ve fucked him minute one, day one.

She doesn’t care that it’s kind of messy, that she comes in his mouth, because he makes that noise again, the same one, the devoted one. It’s more drawn out this time, and he licks her once up her slit for good measure.

“You’re incredible,” he says, lifting his head. “You are- Wow.”

She ruffles his hair. “You’re amazing.”

He nuzzles her, kissing just above her clit. “Now,” he says. “I think I’ll touch myself.”

She whines at the thought of it, at watching him wrap his hand around his cock, watching his face go soft with pleasure-

“But I can multitask,” he says, and slides two fingers inside her, in, out, in- “And you’re not done yet, are you, my love?”

“Oh, fuck,” she says, fisting at his blanket, his warm blanket that smells like him and her head swims- “More,” she says. “Oh, fuck me harder, more-”

“As you command,” he says, and moves in again with his mouth.

 

 

She thinks it’s about an hour later when she washes the sweat off her body and his come off her breasts, shuddering as she thinks about it. 

_You do look so good with that painting you, my love_.

She grins, wiggling under the shower water. “Oh, Khufu,” she sighs. “I love you too.”

 

 

Carter holds her tightly as she sleeps, like he’s afraid someone might come and pry her from his arms.

She doesn’t remember the rest of her dreams.

 

 

He’s already in the shower by the time she wakes up, she can hear the water running from the bed. She takes a moment to ball his blanket in her hands and hold it to her chest. Goosebumps dot the back of her arms as she sighs, gently brushing her cheek against the pillow and-

Wait. Wait, hold on. Just. Hold the goddamn phone. She uncurls her fingers. Shoves the blanket away from her, and sits up. 

She hears Carter singing something to himself in the shower, and puts her hand over her heart, like that will stop the lovesick feeling that makes her head swim. “Carter?” she calls. 

He doesn’t hear her over the water.

A part of her whispers to join him. Join him, touch him, run her hands over his chest slick with water and-

She cracks open the bathroom door. “Carter?”

“Hm?” he calls back.

“I’m going up to my room,” she says. 

He leans out of the shower, holding the curtain against his chest. “What?” he asks. “You’re leaving? Why?”

“I have to…” She looks at the floor. “Shower?”

“So shower with me,” he says.

“I-“ She almost steps into the bathroom, and has to stop her legs from moving. “I have my own like, shampoo and conditioner and… stuff.” 

“Oh,” he says.

He could come shower with her, she supposes. She could ask. “I’ll be right back,” she offers. “And then we can go get breakfast. Coffee. Whatever. Before work. I- Right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I- Yeah, totally go do your own thing. Sorry for um- I just like having you here. Where I can see you.”

“That’s an odd way to put it,” Kendra says.

“It’s an odd way to feel,” Carter counters.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” she says. “To wear under wherever I put the bathrobe?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he says. “Take as many shirts as you’d like.”

“I just need the one,” Kendra says.

He stares at at her. “So you’re a hard no on the shower?”

She isn’t, she isn’t- “I’ll see you in a bit, Carter.”

“Don’t be long,” he says.

She nods, mostly out of the need to do something as she backs out of the bathroom. She grabs the white tee shirt closest to her, realizing as she pulls it over her head that it’s the shirt he slept in. For a minute, she tugs down on it, clenching her thighs, thoughts of him and his body- Why can’t she just shower with him? Why can’t she just roll around on his bed?

She clears her throat, bringing her palm to her forehead. “I should-“ She says. “I should find my robe.”

The second she finds it she wraps it around her body like armor, like a last line of defense, and rushes out of his room.

 

 

Her soap doesn’t get the feeling of him off of her body. She thinks it’s beneath her skin, maybe. Imprinted on her bones. There’s Carter, already running in her veins. 

She doesn’t even know what he like- Does. Besides teach. She doesn’t even know him.

But the entire time she showers, she wishes he was there.

 

 

She comes out of the shower to find a message from Carter on the phone. Well. Three messages. The first reads, “I wanted to let you know you look beautiful when you sleep.” The second message reads, “Is that weird?”

The third message is a picture of his dick.

Which looks exactly as she remembers it from last night, so that’s reassuring, she guesses. Like she hadn’t been hyping it up in her mind, or anything. It’s there. And it is that good.

It’s also. Really hard not to look at it. 

This is not how these sorts of things are supposed to go. She wants it known, for her dignity’s sake, that she would never be happy if it had come from someone else.

But it’s Carter, specifically, that’s doing this to her.

She falls back onto her bed, phone rolling out of her hand.

Her fingers are already flicking against her clit, and her legs are hanging over the edge of the bed as she moves to finger-fuck herself.

And she’d be super embarrassed about this. She would be, but part of her wonders how he’d known she’d been thinking about it, how he’d known so well what she’d wanted. Him. Him always, him as someone who is always available to her, who is always horny for her, desperate even. That he’d probably been hard in the shower, and if she’d gone in to join him-

“Oh, fuck-“ She humps her hand, but no matter how hard she tries she can’t seem to fuck herself as deeply as Carter had with his fingers. Not that it doesn’t feel good, but Carter had felt like a toy, like something inherently made to pleasure her.

Why hadn’t she let him fuck her? That seems like such a mistake, now, maybe he can come up here and fix it, maybe-

 

 

“Kendra, if you’re asleep in there-“

“Carter?!” she yells, pulling her hand away and grabbing onto her sheets. Somehow the fantasy Carter always seems to vanish when real Carter shows up. When he can send her pictures of himself, or pleasure her, but it’s early in the morning and they’ve got to go to work, and somehow she’s having trouble feeling anything but that good, good shame she’d been ignoring.

“Yeah?” he calls back.

“How long have you been knocking on my door?” she asks.

“A little bit,” he says. “You alright?”

This could be it, she supposes. He won’t say no if she asks. 

She checks the clock on her phone. It’s 6:43 AM, and she has to get to work. Why is she so consumed with this? She has to get to work. “I’m not dressed,” she replies.

“So?” he says back.

She lets out a huff. “Yeah, I guess,” she says. She pulls herself up to her feet, very nakedly walking across her hotel room. She stands behind the door as she opens in, letting Carter in.

She closes the door behind him, and when he turns to look at her he stares far too long at the little strip of hair between her legs.

“What?” she asks.

“I-” He tries to find her eyes and winds up on her breasts. “I mean, I sent you that photo and you didn’t respond, so-”

“How do I respond to that?” Kendra asks.

“You’re-” He catches himself. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d want to send a photo back.” 

“Oh,” Kendra says. “I- I got distracted.”

“Oh?” he parrots.

“Shut up,” Kendra says, because that’s the only non-incriminating thing she can say. “Thank you for the picture of your penis. It’s- It’s a good penis. Very nicely shaped.”

“Thank you,” he responds. “Your vagina is- Really great to stick my tongue in.”

Things that would be preferable to this: All. All things.

Why is she so utterly obsessed with him? He’s a literal moron. With a dick she’d just been masturbating over, but still.

“Find my bra,” Kendra says, deciding the best course of action would be to find pants. “We should leave soon.”

“We don’t have to rush, if you don’t want,” he says. “Plenty of time to-”

“Carter,” she says, giving him a not-grin. “My bra.”

“What color is it?” he says.

“Like, white-tan color?” she says, rooting around for her jeans. “It’s not like, frilly or anything if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No,” he says, opening her drawers. “I was asking because I legitimately don’t know what color it is.”

“That’s- A decent reason,” Kendra says. “I guess.”

“Are we going to talk at all about, you know, us?” he asks. “You slept in my bed with me, Kendra.”

“Carter,” she replies. “I’m a non-functioning person without at least 20 fluid ounces of coffee in me. Caffeine me and then maybe, maybe I will consider having something resembling a relationship conversation with you.”

He hold up her bra, and she gives him a thumbs up. “Fair enough.”

“Not that this is like, formal,” Kendra says. “You know, I was just like- Crazy, insatiably horny, and you were there for me. Which I really appreciate, and hope to be that kind of. Person for you. In the future.”

“So we do have a future, then,” Carter says. “And you want to- Sate me. If I need sating.”

“Don’t say sate,” Kendra says, putting on her bra. 

“What other word am I supposed to use?” Carter asks.

“I dunno,” Kendra says. “One that’s less… that.”

“You want to-” He gestures. “If I’m horny, you want to- Help.”

“Yes,” Kendra says.

“Because that’s what I did for you,” Carter says. “Helped.”

“Big time,” Kendra says.

“And you’d like for me to continue helping you,” he says, carefully. “Should the need for help be there.”

“Yes,” Kendra says. “I’d appreciate it.”

“And you also don’t mind… helping me,” he says. “Because last night, you were unsure. Which is fine, I’m happy to help you if you don’t help me, more than happy, thrilled, really-”

“Carter,” she says. “I just said I need coffee.”

“Have you ever noticed I just talk to fill space?” he asks.

“It’s actually impossible not to notice, honey,” Kendra says.

“What?” Carter says.

“What’s what,” Kendra replies.

“You called me honey,” he says.

“No I didn’t,” Kendra says.

“You absolutely did,” he says. “Are we at the pet names phase? Do I get to test a couple out on you, or should we just-”

“Carter,” she interrupts. “If I called you honey, which I didn’t, I meant it in the casual way. Do not call me anything other than Kendra. Or Dr. Saunders. Please.”

“Your wish is my command,” he says.

“Drive me to breakfast,” Kendra says.

“You’re set?” he asks.

She checks her outfit. Pants are on. Shirt’s on. Bag’s still packed. “I’m good.”

“Then let’s get something to eat,” Carter says. “I’m famished.”

Kendra immediately thinks, you could eat me- But if she says it, he’ll take her up on it. And she’s not sure what’s worse: That, or the fact that she really kind of wants him to, right here, right now. That even just being around him, trying to be casual, she can’t really shake this feeling that she needs him inside her. 

“Yeah,” she manages, and links her arm through his. “I’m hungry, too.”

 

 

They’re halfway to the front of the line when Kendra goes, “You know, I don’t really- Like, know what you do outside of teaching.”

Carter turns towards her, studying her face. It’s nice, to have his eyes on her face again. It makes her feel less… eager. “I suppose we haven’t talked much about that kind of thing.”

“We should, I think,” Kendra says. “I mean, there’s more to us than just our libidos and our jobs, right?” And she’s partially asking him and she’s partially asking herself, since the answer feels kind of uncertain right now. 

“I’d like to hope so,” he says. “I just… Don’t really know how to do this, since we skipped the date and got right to the-“

“What’s your favorite color?” she interrupts. All of that had been bad- The word date, the sex almost mention, his mouth making words.

He meets her eyes. “Hard to pick,” he says. “Maybe- Sunrise? Or sunset. I’m not sure. It’s a complex choice, really, can anyone really pick one color when there’s so many variations of it and some are more red and some are more blue or yellow, is it even worth picking something outside the primary wheel when that’s all it comes down to?”

“Mine’s purple,” Kendra offers. 

“Then I guess I’ll go with purple, too,” he says. “Since it makes you happy.”

She feels herself laughing before she registers it, showing all teeth in that unashamed, flattered and happy way. “Really?”

“Really,” he says. “Whatever you like is the best option because it makes you feel good. And when you feel good, I feel good.”

“You do?” Kendra says.

“Yeah,” he says. “I just- Watching you smile… It’s like I can feel it. Like I’m connected to you. Is that too much?”

“Oh absolutely,” Kendra tells him. “But it’s not weird. Coming from you. I- I like that you feel that way.”

He beams. “This is fun. See? We can do this. We can be fun.”

“It’s more fun not to point out how fun it is,” Kendra says.

He lets out a small noise of offense. “Do you have any pets?”

“I have a cactus,” Kendra says.

“That’s wonderful!” Carter declares, the world’s most passionate man. “Does she bloom?”

“Not yet,” Kendra says. “She’s only a baby.”

“What’s her name?” Carter asks.

The sheepish feeling in her stomach is entirely too romance-novel, too over-the-moon, too shy. It’s the heat her face that she can feel and a genuine affection in the way she brushes her fingers against his hand. She’s not embarrassed, she shouldn’t be embarrassed, but it feels kind of like she is. “Sheila.”

“Sheila,” he says. 

“What about you?” Kendra asks. “Any cacti?”

“No, no succulents,” he says. “Though I would like some. I have a lovebird, actually. I call her Katherine.”

She’s suddenly lightheaded. Like she’s stood up too fast. “What?”

“Katherine,” Carter says. “She’s a red-faced lovebird, though, quite a temperamental girl. Sometimes I call her-“

“Cinnamon,” Kendra says.

He tilts her head. “That is one hell of a guess.”

“I just-“ She shakes her head. “It felt right.”

“We must think alike, then,” he says. 

She leans against him. “Sorry,” she says. “Feeling a little… Woozy. Must be hunger.”

“Or another one of your fainting spells,” he says. “We’ll get some food in you. See if it helps.”

“Yeah,” she says, softly. “Is someone watching her? Cinnamon?”

“Oh,” Carter says, like he’d forgotten the subject entirely. “Yes. My colleague, Dr. Palmer. He’s bird-sitting her all summer. Which is good. He can get a bit lonely.”

“That’s a shame,” Kendra says.

“Yes, well,” Carter says. “I’ll worry about him when I get back to St. Roch. For now, my concern is you.”

“I just need coffee,” she says. “I’m fine.”

“You are-“ He tugs her closer against his side and she lets him, his arm encircling her waist. “You’re worrying me.”

“I’m worrying myself, if I’m honest,” Kendra says. “What we did last night? I don’t usually do that.”

“Did I make a mistake?” he asks. “Should I have turned you away?”

“No,” Kendra says. “I- I liked it. I liked it a lot, so much that I-”

“You what?”

She rests her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know how I feel about you, Carter,” she says. “I just know I need you.” Which, by the way, worst confession she’s ever made.

“However you need me,” he says. “You can always tell me. Okay?”

Not okay, not okay, she doesn’t need anyone, she isn’t supposed to ever need anyone. Ever. Let alone him, let alone here, let alone now on her dream excavation in the city she’s always wanted to see. She should be out seeing the sights. Not leaning on Carter Hall.

But she can’t ignore how badly she wants to be near him. 

She sighs. “Okay.”

 

 

He tries to slip his hand into her back pocket when they get out of the car. Like he’s just going to stroll into work with his hand on her ass, like they’re a couple. 

She takes him by the wrist and returns her hand to his side. “Carter.”

He’s studying the clouds, she realizes, not even registering where she’d put his hand. “Hm?”

“You can’t do that,” she says. “You can’t- No one can know, okay? Please don’t put your hand on my ass in front of other people.”

He blinks a couple of times, turn to look at her. “My what?”

“You put your hand in my pocket,” Kendra says.

“I-“ He gives her a once over, and she ignores how long he lingers on her hips. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I must’ve just-” He does that thing where he swallows his words and considers them. “I like touching you, I suppose. I know how you feel, I’m sorry. It was- It felt like what I should do when I knew I shouldn’t.”

“It’s just,” she pushes her hair out of her face. “Like, this won’t hurt you, you know? But I have been dreaming of this dig, I wanted it so badly and my work needs to be my work, Carter.”

“I know,” he says. “Trust me, okay? I understand. I’m sorry I did that.” 

“I don’t- I don’t want to like, yell this at you, because it’s not even really you, but shit, Carter, it’s day four and you ate me out and I can’t stop thinking about you and-”

“You can’t stop thinking about me?” Carter asks. 

She licks her lips. “I feel like this is really fast. And the faster it is the worse I’m going to look and just- Shit! I don’t want to push you away, is what I mean. I’m kind of nervous about this but I like having you around me but then I’m scared I’m going to slip up and everyone is going to know and for the rest of my life every accomplishment I get will be accredited to you and-”

“Hey-” And he cups her cheeks in his hands without thinking, and fuck if it isn’t relaxing, if his gaze doesn’t feel like something steady to fall into. “Hey. I won’t do that. I won’t- This is your dig, okay? I’m just here. It’ll be your papers and your research and your name.”

When she looks at him, she kind of forgets what she’s so worried about. She feels so happy and peaceful and content and-

“Okay,” she says, backing away. “I- I really appreciate it, Carter.” And the anxiety is back, stronger than before, more severe since she’s realized he makes it go away. Because it’s not just a sort of lovesick disregard for common sense. It’s a literal absence of the thought in her head. Not like he’s covering her eyes- Like when she looks at him, nothing else is there but him. 

She realizes, kind of suddenly, heat rolling through her belly, that she’s scared. That things are happening in a way that’s playing tricks on her mind.

“Kendra,” he says. “You don’t look so good.”

She wraps her arms around herself. “I’m hearing things, Carter,” she says. “I hear- Your voice when you’re not here. And when I look at you, I-”

“I hear you, too,” he says, in a rush. He shrugs his arms. “I thought I should tell you. If you’re thinking that way. I hear you, too.”

“For how long?” Kendra says.

“Since you lifted that dagger,” he says. “I have no idea if it’s connected. I have no idea what’s happening, I mean I found you beautiful and smart and kind before but then we find this thing and I can’t breathe when you’re not near me and-”

“Carter,” she says. “Do you still have it?”

“Glovebox,” he says. 

“We need to-” She’s throwing open the door to his car, opening the glove box. “Why are you keeping it here?”

“Because I know we should return it,” he says. “But every time we go back there something bizarre happens. You think I haven’t noticed?”

She sucks on her gums, slamming the car door and holding the dagger up to the sunlight. “Do you see it?”

“See what?”

“The inscription,” Kendra says. She tilts it back, letting it cut into the sun’s rays. “It wasn’t there when I found it.”

He moves to her side. Squints. “I don’t see anything.”

“You can’t see that?” Kendra runs her finger along the length of it. “I feel like I know what it says.”

“I’ll probably see it soon enough,” he says. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Kendra says. “I think it is.”

“What do you want to do?” he says.

“Keep digging,” Kendra says. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” he tells her. “Put it back. We can look it over in my room tonight.”

She knows they should return it. She knows. She’s stealing artifacts, she’s just about fucked her co-worker, she can’t seem to get her thoughts in order- But she puts the dagger back in his glovebox anyway. 

“Maybe we should just-“ He lets out a breath. “You manage the Central City U side of things and I’ll manage my school and we’ll just- See if one of us can find something. It’s better to cover more ground.”

“Or one of us ends up in another- I don’t even know what’s happening to us, but I’d prefer it didn’t happen to us when we were alone.”

“It’s up to you,” he says. “If you want me near you, I’ll stay near you.”

She considers it. She considers how much the idea of suddenly not working with him hurts her, and then feels a sudden, hot burst of anger at it. She doesn’t need a partner, she doesn’t need a Carter, she’ll be fine. “Let’s split up,” she says. “Meet up at lunch?”

“It’s a date,” he tells her.

“Carter,” she says.

He beams, and she accepts the weakness in her knees. “Sorry.”

 

 

He finds her enjoying lunch sometime around noon, a streak of dirt smeared across his cheek. “I found something.”

“Cool,” Kendra says. “I finished my quadrant and compared notes. Did you-” She notices how alive he seems, how charged. “Are you okay?”

“You need to come see it,” he says.

“What is it?” she asks. “You don’t-“ She drops her voice to a whisper. “You didn’t take anything, did you?”

“What?” Carter says. “No. I found a bit of visual history. I thought you’d want to see it.”

“Oh, thank God,” Kendra says, putting her hand over her heart. “Because you came in here grinning like a madman and I thought-”

He laughs. “Kendra, it’s just very exciting history,” he says. “I’m fine. I promise. You’re the one that fainted.”

She lets out a noise of offense.

“It’s just hieroglyphics,” he tells her. “Nothing you and I haven’t studied. No weird voices, nothing like that. Just something that might help us figure this place out a bit more.” 

“Can I finish my sandwich, first?” she says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “I’m actually going to-” He thumbs towards the lunch line. “Can I sit with you when I eat?”

“So long as you don’t put your hand on my thigh, I think we’ll be good,” she says.

“Promise,” he tells her. 

She actually really, really wants him to put his hand on her thigh. She blanches at herself. “Go get lunch,” she tells him.

 

 

The meal is so pleasant that it actually makes her hate him just a little more.

 

 

He leads her further away from the main site than she’d thought he would, though she doesn’t question him. He takes her hand and she lets him, guiding her deeper into the ruins than they’re allowed. “Carter,” she says. “This isn’t what we agreed on. Did you come out here alone? Something could’ve fallen and you could’ve gotten hurt-“

“I’m fine,” he says. “It’s perfectly safe. I know this place like-”

She looks at him. “You know this place?”

“Well, I mean I explored it earlier,” he says. 

“Ah,” Kendra says. “So you’re just being cocky.”

“I wouldn’t call it cocky if it’s true,” he says.

“You know, you are so absolutely-” She lets him guide her over the cracked steps. “You. You are so impossible to even- Wrap my head around.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says. “I think I’m fairly easy to pin down.”

“Am I the only person you’ve ever said that to?” Kendra replies.

“You’re the only person I want to say it to,” Carter says. “I like to talk. I like to do-” He gestures to the ruins they’re wandering in. “This. And I like you. A lot. Simple.”

“A lot,” Kendra says. “That’s- A lot.”

“Yes, well,” Carter says. “That’s why I said it.”

“How much is a lot?” Kendra asks. “Like, if you had to rate it.”

“I don’t think I can rate it,” Carter says, craning his head back to look at the sunlight coming in. It’s still a fairly enclosed area, with more than half the ceiling left. “I certainly feel more strongly for you than I usually do when I get to know someone.”

“You still barely know me,” she says.

“Why do you keep insisting that?” Carter says. “It’s like, I understand why you want that boundary there but I also feel like you’re just- Pushing to push. Does that make sense?”

She doesn’t reply.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “If I’m coming on too strong, or-“

“No,” Kendra says. “You’re right.” And does she hate him for it? Absolutely. “It’s- A lot, Carter. It’s because when I look at you, I want to tell you everything about me, like, everything, because I just implicitly trust you and that’s so dangerous and-“

“It’s not dangerous,” he says. “You can trust me. With anything.”

“But you’re-“ She tries to find the word. “A person. You’re another person, and that makes you hard to trust.”

“I won’t force it on you,” he says. “But I’m here.”

She responds by squeezing his hand.

“And actually,” he says, stopping before the furthermost wall from the entranceway. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

She has to pull her gaze off of him, the way the veins in his neck move when he breathes, the tiny patch of stubble he missed this morning. She turns her head away and-

 

 

“Carter,” she breathes, suddenly taking in the scene before her. “What is this?”

“It’s a story,” he says. “About love.”

“No,” she says, still looking at it, feeling his hand release hers and move to rest firmly against her lower back. “It’s about- It’s about-”

There’s- There’s so much of it. A woman, and a man. And a story. She’s trying to process it, she’s trying, but all she can see is the two of them, that they died, that they were- They were- “Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” Carter says. “But this is incredible, isn’t it?”

She can’t- She can’t read it. She should logically know what it says, or at least be able to take in the context of it. But when she looks at it, it’s like she’s never studied the subject at all- And this had been her thesis topic! This place! This history!

So why is it all whirling around in her head, just colors and pictures making her feel something, something strong and inescapable, while she understands nothing at all?

She ignores everything she’s ever learned, ever, and puts her hand against the wall.

Her knees shake, her entire chest feeling inescapably, suffocatingly hot.

“What’s wrong?” Carter asks, moving his hands to her waist. He’s standing behind her, and he’s holding her by the waist. 

She lets out a tiny, desperate whimper.

“Kendra,” he says, too close to her ear. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t-” She pulls her hand back, finding it easy to rest against Carter’s chest. “I can’t understand it. I keep trying to look at it and it makes my thoughts so-” She presses against his hips. “I’m just-”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, sliding his hand across her stomach, down to the waistband of her jeans. “What do you feel?”

“You,” she says, rubbing against him. “I- I want you, I-“

“Shh,” he murmurs, kissing under her ear. “Shh, it’s alright. I understand.”

He does understand, he knows to run his hand down the front of her jeans and settle between her legs.

“I’m here,” he says. His hand pushes her more tightly against his hips, so he can rut against her through their clothes. The feeling of it makes her feel dizzy and giggly and so good, so fucking good-

“We need to go back-“ Kendra says, sinking into his touch. “We- Hotel- We have to.”

“What’s the excuse?” he asks.

“I’m sick,” Kendra says, and it’s the truth. “Something’s- I have to- Fuck, Carter, what’s going on?”

“I’m touching you,” he says.

She moans at that without meaning to. “I mean- We- If we fuck, it’ll be better. And my brain will be- Okay.”

He goes to unbutton her jeans. “No,” she says, insistently. “Hotel.”

“Hotel,” he repeats.

“Now,” she says.

He grabs her wrist and pulls her backwards, guides her away from the wall. 

For a moment, she stares, the entire thing looming in her field of vision.

“The writing,” she says. “The writing on the dagger is on the wall.”

But Carter doesn’t hear her- She barely hears herself, and all of the thinking is happening between her legs.

Her brain fades in and out of conscious thought, and she follows Carter out.


	5. in which we have a good ol' fashioned hieros gamos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wikipedia defines the "hieros gamos" as "a sexual ritual that plays out a marriage between a god and a goddess, especially when enacted in a symbolic ritual where human participants represent the deities." in layman's terms, this is 4K of soulmates fucking. we're gonna need more lubricant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY SAID IT COULDN'T BE DONE! THEY SAID IT WOULDN'T BE DONE! But roughly 3 months and 4 rewrites later, I bring you an update! the issue with writing this much sex in one chapter is getting about 3k in and going "wait, does that make sense?" turns out i needed to rework how I write about the good good. I'm really excited to give you guys this chapter and keep up with the story! xx!

There is nothing quite like the sense of shame Kendra feels boiling in her chest. Even trying to swallow the feeling of it feels warm, like she’s turned her body into a furnace. Fevers make you cold- Right? If this were a fever, a sickness, if she had a temperature as hot as she currently felt, she’d be freezing.

This isn’t right. This isn’t normal, this isn’t some kind of bug that’s in her system. 

A fever sends you to the hospital. She supposes tomorrow she’ll say that’s what had happened- She’d already fainted once on the job, so what’s some new and fresh humiliation?

She could cry if she wasn’t so preoccupied.

“Carter,” she says, shifting in her seat, pushing her fingers against her inner thighs. “Something is wrong with us.”

He’s not driving any differently than usual, which could possibly be seen as a relief, since she feels about the same level of safety she always does- But she can’t even look at him without getting overwhelmed, like she wants to put her hand down his pants. Like that’s just an okay thing to do when he’s (poorly) driving a car. 

The thing is, she can’t even open her mouth to tell him to slow down. She’s afraid she’ll breathe too deeply and get too much of a feel for him, become too aware of his presence for her own comfort.

For a moment, she thinks that crashing might be a welcome relief- At least she’d die with her skin on, since right now she feels like she’s about to break out of it, like her body’s been too tightly wrapped. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” he replies, and she doesn’t check to see how much his expression means it. It’s too easy to get lost in the shape of his jaw and the muscles of his neck. She needs to breathe. She needs to breathe, and nothing has ever seemed quite so impossible.

“We left,” she whines, trying to ignore the way her own hands are creeping up on her. “We left work.”

“It’s okay,” he says, and he reaches over, pats her knee.

She whines.

“We’re fine,” he says, possibly lying, possibly not, she doesn’t really care at this point. By the time he stops the car, her heart’s already pounded its way out of her ribcage, left the building- Gone, gone, she is so fucking gone.

 

He turns to her, turning off the ignition. “Kendra-“

She grabs him, yanking him forward and grasping desperately at his face. When she kisses him, he responds by exhaling in a sort of desperate, heavy way, weaving his hands through her hair. 

She sees light when she shuts her eyes, blinding and overwhelming. She tries to suck in air through her nose as he kisses her, the sound of her own breathing sounding harsh and sharp in her own ears. 

When she moves to hook her leg over his, her ass hits the steering wheel.

The horn sounds off like an alarm, not for long, but loud enough to remind her to come up for air. “Oh God,” she says, as he rests his head against her chest, and his hands hold her waist. “Carter, the- We’re in a car, we have to get. We have to go upstairs. Bed.”

He ignores her, mouthing at her through her shirt. His thumbs find the belt-loops of her pants. And she knows what he means when he gives them an insistent tug, of course she knows, but they’re in a car, they’re in the tiniest car possible, and-

What’s left of her brain manages to direct her arm to the car door, and it flings open outward, Kendra tumbling halfway out with the motion of it. She pushes herself back up, shifting her legs over Carter’s, ignoring the way that motion rubs her against the hardness in his pants. It doesn’t help that he paws at her as she gets out of the car, or that the only way she can think to get him to move is to tug at his soft hair.

“Please,” she says. “Carter, please-“

He follows the lead of her hands and her voice, clambering out of his tiny, stupid rental car and resting his hand on the roof. 

“Carter?”

He nods at her, cheeks splotchy and flushed. “You look-“ He sucks in a breath. And out. And in. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

She presses her thighs together. “Carter,” she whines.

He grins, a sort of funny thing, this kind of infectious fondness for her that makes her feel like she’s left this plane of existence. “You’re beautiful,” he says, taking his hand off the car roof, absentmindedly kicking the door shut. He cups her cheeks. “You’re beautiful, you’re beautiful, you’re so beautiful and I haven’t stopped thinking of you from the moment I saw you. Did I tell you that?”

She stares at him, speechless and wide-eyed. She shakes her head.

He kisses her, several quick, soft kisses on the lips. “I can’t think when I’m around you,” he says. “I can’t do anything but stare at you.”

She licks her lips. “You must be thinking of something.”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m thinking about making love to you until we pass out.”

That’s an entirely Carter thing to say. In some part of her, she truly wishes she could laugh at him for it.

Somewhere in her head, something is saying that it’s silly, not romantic. 

But he’s so handsome. And warm. And his nose is brushing hers. “Oh,” she says, and is interrupted by him kissing her, dragging her lower lip against his own. 

She shoves him back against the car door, the impact of his body hitting with a metallic thud. Her thumbs dig against his jaw, right where she can feel his pulse, his heartbeat, his very being, and she feels like she is trying to press herself into his bloodstream, like she is trying to wind herself into the beat of his heart as she kisses him and kisses him and- 

He slides his hand between her legs, rubbing her jeans, making her whimper despite herself. “Please,” she says, desperate, groaning. “Not here. I can’t- You’re too- Please-“ She tugs him by the hair and he puts his lips against her neck. “Carter,” she whimpers, rubbing against his hand. “Carter, Carter-“

“Fuck,” he murmurs, splaying his free hand on her stomach and pushing her back. “All I can think about is fucking you. I can’t even see straight-“

She chews on her cheek and tries to remind herself not to fuck him on the hood of the car, that it would be wrong, that they could get in very serious trouble for it. One of them has to be able to remember how the world works outside of this, one of them has to still be able to function.

“Don’t-“ Kendra sucks in a breath, forcibly pulling his hand out from between her legs, feeling like that’s the most incorrect thing she could do, that he belongs there, that it feels good, she should just let this happen- “Just don’t touch me until we’re in your room and we can- Get naked.”

He looks like he’s going to have a very hard time with that. “Good. Yes. That’s- Good idea. Okay.”

She tries to straighten her blouse, smooth her hair, do anything but touch her lips or her breasts or shove her hand down her pants. She clasps her hands together in front of her and makes a beeline for the entrance.

 

Carter follows her, his footsteps heavy and purposeful, like she’s leading him to holy water. 

 

Neither notices the large, deep dent they left in the car door.

  

She keeps her hands deep in her pockets during the elevator ride up. The hotel lobby had been mercifully quiet, and though she can feel her head pounding, no one else had seemed to notice.

Well. Carter notices, but she doesn’t count that, doesn’t count the way she’s sweating in an air-conditioned elevator, or the way she can feel his eyes on her. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“No,” she responds, softly, pained, her fingers pressing into the creases of her body, the lines of her thighs. “We’re not okay.”

“This will fix it,” he promises, and she still can’t look at him or risk losing her mind. “We. We can fix it.”

“How?” She asks. “By fucking?”

“I can send you up to your room,” he says, though it sounds like it pains him to say it. “If that’s what you want.”

“You,” she says, and it’s so easy. “I want you.”

She meets his gaze as the doors ding open, and he tugs her out of the elevator, takes her by the arm and walks with her to his door. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay. We’re doing this.”

He fumbles in his pockets for the room key. “Yes.”

“We left work to have sex,” she says.

“We did,” he replies.

“Are you going to come in me?” Kendra whines, not in like a fun sexy way but in a manner of general uncertainty.

Carter finds the key and clicks the door open. “Do you want me to?”

“I really, really don’t know,” she says.

“Let’s start with point A then, shall we?” he asks.

She nods, and he takes that to mean he should pull her into his room, door slamming shut behind them.

 

His hold is instant and as all-consuming as she’d known it would be, his hands on her body the second they are all. She can feel him smiling at her, the sort of uninhibited light that radiates off him as he holds her from behind, freely placing his hands on her hips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he says.

“It’s only been a few days,” she says, chewing on her lip as he unbuttons her jeans. She could hold on a little longer, probably, and not grind against him, but she wants it completely clear that the door is closed and locked and that she is giving in. She is giving in immediately, actually.

“Oh, no,” he says. Her jeans are rolled over her hips, fabric roughing at her skin. “Your first dissent? Of my- What was it? I think it was about artifacts relating to Horus.”

“You wanted to fuck me because I hated your paper?” she laughs, rolling her head back, arched against him. “Why? So you could dominate me and prove you were right?” The word dominate was perhaps a poor choice, and she doesn’t bother to conceal the effect it has on her, a sharp feeling of want pricking at her skin.

“No, I wanted to fuck you because you were smarter than me,” he says, kissing behind her ear. “And that is, I think, the sexiest thing on the planet earth. I wanted you to take me, my Goddess.”

Her head swims, thinking of laying him beneath her and riding him, his eyes wide and pleading with desperation as she took her pleasure from him-

She blinks. “Well why didn’t you just say so?” she asks. She turns to face him, pulling off his shirt. She likes the way he knows what she’s thinking, how he lifts his arms without having to be asked, how he kisses her once his shirt is off and lets her run her fingers over his stomach. She likes the way he shudders at her touch. She likes the clear infatuation in his gaze.

She’s feeling kind of exhilarated, just looking into his eyes, just looking at how badly he wants her, how he’s become consumed with her.

The idea of not having touched him last night has been nagging at her, and she’s kind of feeling a little obsessed with the idea of seeing him naked again. 

His hands cover hers as she undresses him, and she almost tells him she can do it herself- But then he’d take his hands off her, and that seems like the worst thing ever, the worst thing in the world. “No foreplay?” he asks. “I could eat your pussy again.”

She manages a small, needy moan. “I need this,” she says. “Your- You know.”

“No,” he says, unbuttoning her blouse for her, assuming she can handle taking off his underwear. “Why don’t you say it?”

She waits for him to kiss her breasts, not knowing how she’d known, just a feeling that he likes them- That he worships them, worships her- He worships- She’s his Goddess, or something, and-

She strokes his head. “My prince,” she says, with unfamiliar certainty and grace. “Please. I need your cock. Make love to me.”

He has to tease her in return, cupping her breasts in his hands and flicking her nipples with his thumbs, until he can circle his fingers around them and suckle on her with his mouth. Her nails scrape at his scalp. “My love,” he says, looking up, and she somehow feels those two words vibrating through her entire body, like she can feel them in her soul. “It would be my pleasure.”

 

Which is when he shoves her back onto the bed, and puts his hands on her knees like she isn’t already spreading her legs for him.

And he’s back on her breasts again, kissing between them and up to her collarbone, his hands crawling to her thighs and digging into her skin.

“Carter,” she begs, undulating her hips. “Focus. Please.”

He offers his index finger against her lips, and she kisses it, still not quite sure how to get what she needs from him, so intensely it feels like she’s going to dissolve into the bed.

“Please,” she says again, gently sucking on his finger to beg him. The sensation of him in her mouth makes her mind go fuzzy. This is- this must be what’s happening to Carter. It’s impossible to think right now, the urge to touch and be touched is so overwhelming that she thinks she may never surface from it. But she needs him. She needs him, her prince, her lover, the writing on the wall told her she needed him and-

Wait. Wait- Something- He pinches her nipple, returning his mouth to tease at the other, and his tongue is going to kill her- But she can see something in her mind’s eye. The temple he’d taken her to, the drawings he’d shown her, it was a story, it was-

She grabs his head and digs her nails into his skin, unlatching him from her breast. “Khufu,” she says, and his pupils are already blown so wide, his lips are wet and when she speaks to him he seems to tremble in anticipation. “Enough play. Fuck me.”

He stares down at her for a moment, sort of glassy-eyed and malleable. “I love you,” he says, brushing her hair out of her face. 

She tilts her chin up and kisses him. “I know, my love,” she says. “Now show me.”

 

For a second, he seems that he’s going to say something else- And in that instant, she can almost, almost put her finger on something being off.

But then he bows his head against her chest, and his cock is teasing her, and it’s all she can do to stroke the back of his neck to praise his worship.

Worship. Is that the word she meant to use?

He fucks into her, and she’s pretty sure when she inhales she can see the sun. 

Worship is the word she meant to use.

“Oh my God,” she moans, pawing at his back. “I- You- I-“

He’s taken to giving her a hickey and he is- Fuck. He’s like, better than a vibrator, better than the best sex she’d ever had before this. He’s fucking her with his entire heart and soul- And not to be weird, but he kind of fits perfectly inside her.

She’s past weird. She’s past weird, she’s past bizarre, she’s going to lay her and let her coworker worship her body until she passes out, and fuck if this isn’t the happiest she’s ever been.

“That’s perfect, my love,” she says. “Just like that.”

He pushes her knee up against his side, hitched against the line of his hip. She can’t even think to make anything other than wordless, gasping sounds as he thrusts deeper inside her.

She thinks she’s tearing up a little bit, not in sadness but in the overwhelming feeling of him. Every piece of her is invested in this moment, right now, in the satisfaction. The relief.

“Sh, shh,” he coos, in tune with her thoughts, her emotions, her heartbeat- He kisses her cheekbone, the tip of her nose. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“Khufu,” she cries out, her spasming around him, arching her back. “It’s been so long, I needed you, I’ve ached for you-“

“I’m here, Chay-ara,” he says. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to his chest. “I’m here, and no one will take you from me.”

She nods, her arms around his neck. “I’m yours,” she promises. “I am. I’ve waited for you all this time, and you came back-“

He kisses her- Decidedly, fully, and it’s like she’s been missing something in her life that she’d never even realized until this moment.

And now she’s found him. Found her- He- He’s a man and she- She doesn’t want to need anyone least of all a boyfriend but-

His hips hitch as she screams out, her thoughts fading as she comes on his cock for the first time.

It’s- She expects it to fade and it doesn’t, this feeling of peace and joy and burning, all consuming desire. It’s not just in her cunt or in her stomach but in her veins and in her lungs, curling tightly around her thoughts.

  

She feels grinning again, wildly, happily, kissing his face and riding him, memorizing the way he looks at her, like her lovesick little puppy dog, her most devoted prince. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells her, and he shifts, pushing her back and climbing onto the bed. “But you are most beautiful when you come, my love.”

She gently pushes her hands against his chest, kissing his collarbone. “Get on your back.”

She expects him to pull out and he doesn’t, instead placing his hands under her ass as he lifts her with him.

Kendra sucks in a breath, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re a show off,” she says. “You’ve got such a good- Fuck!” 

He laughs against her, and he was supposed to go back to the bed, she’s sure, but now her back is against the wall. “Don’t you love it?” he asks, his hand next to her head. His free arm keeps her pace where he wants it. She could overpower him but wouldn’t want to, that would ruin it, ruin how good he is with his fucking hips, his stupid, amazing, powerful hips.

She needs him to toy with her chest again, needs it like a physical ache, trying to arch her back and offering him small, pleading sounds. She seems to expect that he can read her mind, that he can at the very least read her body, that he understands what her shuddering means, what the slick on her thighs and his cock says.

He makes a trade- Giving her breasts what she wants, but slowing his thrusts. Each movement is more pointed, more powerful, the slow drag of him putting pressure right against her clit. She feels almost frozen in their entanglement, almost lost- She’s lost sense of up and down, of the time, but she can clearly see Carter’s shoulders and the tension of muscles underneath his skin.

When she shuts her eyes and rides out the sensations, all she sees is sunlight.

She could open her eyes and it could be winter, or maybe summer next year- It could be an entirely different time and place and she wouldn’t even notice.

His mouth moves to her sternum, her collarbone, her neck- She can feel the anticipation in the way he kisses her skin, short and impatient and pleading. She collars the back of his neck with her hand, pulling him away, laughing to herself as he whimpers with insistence. She meets his gaze for a moment, catching her reflection. She’s ethereal and otherworldly, her hair curling around her shoulders and her skin seeming to glow with a golden sheen.

She shakes the distraction from her head, nudging him until he pulls out. The loss of him allows her to take in a breath. Another couple of gasps follow, as she tries to readjust to the feeling of her skin without his rubbing against it, and she almost, almost has a coherent thought-

But she catches sight of his erection and the way he’s standing there, obediently waiting for her, and she has no choice but to drag him back to the bed. 

  

“Sit,” she says, and he does. He takes a moment to wrap his arms around her legs, to press his face against her stomach and kiss her abdomen. His hands shift, running up the backs of her thighs.

It’s all too easy, to get tipsy on the power she holds over him. That everything she feels for him he feels just as strongly. She lets him kiss downwards, and feels that the most natural thing to do is to stroke his hair as he parts her folds and licks her clit. 

“I need you back inside me,” she says, and it isn’t a question or a request but a statement of fact.

He pauses, tilting his head to back to look at her. “Please, my goddess,” he says. “I’m yours.”

Her knees nearly give out with need for him, holding his shoulders as she straddles him. She playfully shoves him onto his back, and he instinctively holds his hands over his head, letting her take his wrists. It feels like power. But power that is shared, power that flows between them and sparks under her fingertips. Power that fills her as she seats herself on him, making her cry out in pleasure. 

“Carter,” she says, breathing softly. “Why didn’t we do this on the first night? Why did we even try to pretend this wouldn’t happen?”

“You’re worth the wait,” he says. “You always are.”

She lays on top of him, rocking her hips. “I can tell you’re close,” she says. “Beg me, my prince.”

“Oh, my Goddess,” he says, his voice terribly weak and pleading. “Let me come in you. Let me worship you. Please, my love. I need to fill you, I need to come-“

She couldn’t stop him from coming if she wanted to- Though she doesn’t want to. When he comes, she comes, and when she comes, he can sense it. She doesn’t know how they’re connected, just that they are, that when one feels good the other feels even better and so on until she’s clutching his chest and riding out their orgasms, breathless and feeling like she’s been struck by lightning.

  

Kendra falls forward, feeling everything but a deep calm leave her tired body. She lays her head on his chest, feeling him move under her cheek. He’s _laughing._

She finds the strength to pull herself off his cock, moving her legs to his side, folding her arms over his chest and resting her chin. “What’s so funny?”

He strokes her hair, and he’s still looking at her like… Not like Carter. And that’s fine, because she still doesn’t feel quite like Kendra. “I feel like we just got married.”

She should be appalled- But she isn’t. Not at all. She cracks a grin. “I think that was better than it would be on our wedding night.”

“Well-“ Still stroking her hair. “Maybe one day we’ll find out.”

She has known him for four days, and only liked him for 72 hours, but something about the spark in his eye is all too enticing. “We should shower,” she says. “Uh-“ She blinks. “Carter. Right. Carter.”

“Were you going to call me something else?” he asks.

“No,” she says. “I don’t think so.”

“A shower is a good idea,” he says. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon.”

“We did, uh,” Kendra pushes herself off him. “Lose track of time.”

He pulls her back down to kiss her with an expectant ease- She yields to his hands, kissing him unusual familiarity. It feels like kissing someone she has kissed for years, slowly and sweetly. It is both a pause in her thoughts and a continuation of them, like this is a natural thing for her to do.

“Carter,” she says, against his lips. “I feel sticky.”

He grins at that- Proudly grins, and she remembers for just a second that she sort of hates him.

This time, she rolls off the bed before he can catch her, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Well?”

He reaches to spank her and she slaps his hand away, making a small noise of surprise. “Ass!”

“Yes,” he says. “That’s what I was reaching for.”

“I’m showering,” she says. “Goodbye, Carter.”

She flicks the lights on in the bathroom, examining her reflection- Her sweaty, sweaty reflection. “Ugh, gross-“ she says, turning to see if Carter left any marks on her back. 

Carter. She’d had sex with… Carter. And she’s- She looks at her face again. He’s right. She is- She’s very pretty, is all. She toys with her hair, distracted by the fullness of her own lips, the light sheen on her breasts.

“Are you alright?” he asks, coming up behind her. “Kendra?”

“What?” she says. “Oh, I’m-“ She backs up, brushing his legs. “How are you?”

He chuckles. “Good,” he says. “Great even.”

She reaches back, patting his jaw. “Good.”

“Can I help you wash off?” he asks.

She blinks at them in the mirror. The image of them together, always together. “Yes, my-“ She shakes her head, breaking away from her reflection. “Yeah. Sure. Absolutely. I’d- Let’s do that.”

She can sense the confusion on him, in the way he strokes her arm. “Just looking at you,” he says. “Makes me think I could go again.”

The statement is, if she thinks about it logically, entirely unreasonable- But she presses herself against the shower wall anyway, smiling to herself. “Could you?” she asks.

His hand grabs her thigh, spreads her legs. “If you wanted me to, my love.”

She rests her head on Khufu’s shoulder, sighing in contentment. “I don’t tire easily,” she says. “Make love to me again.”

He turns on the shower while kissing the back of her neck.


End file.
